


When the Enemy isn't the Enemy

by Snowfire (Snowdream)



Series: Definition of Enemy [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Feeding pouches/tubes, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowdream/pseuds/Snowfire
Summary: When a battle turns to the Autobots worst fear, the enemy surprises them and they're left with trying to figure out what the mech's planning to do with their Prime.
Relationships: Barricade/Bumblebee, Hound/Mirage, Inferno/Red Alert, Ironhide/Ratchet, Jazz/Prowl, Optimus Prime/Snowfire (OC)
Series: Definition of Enemy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615999
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. The Medic

**Author's Note:**

> If I need to add more tags, please tell me. I don't know what the heck I'm doing.

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

Frowning as he flies behind the seeker trine, he can feel their exhaustion, boredom of this twenty seventh raid this, what would have been, orn if they had been on Cybertron but they are on a mudball, organic filled planet called Earth. It does have its positives, of course he would never point them out to the Decepticons, not in fear that they would be destroyed but in fear he’d have to elaborate ad tell who h experienced it with. 

That would be the orn he’d voluntarily give up information that would label him a traitor or spy. 

Pulses go by as the mechs on the ground convert the energy from the power plant they momentarily claimed. Every time they do a raid, one of the humans end up surviving to call the Autobots. Every time they never get enough Energon. They would make their own Energon plant but currently the only Energon converter on the planet is in the Autobot servos. 

:Autobots incoming,: Starscream shouts over the Decepticon comms. He spots the red and blue truck leading the procession of Autobots. Megatron, for the most part, doesn’t come on these raids but this time he did. The Prime however always leads his Autobots into battle. He spots the yellow and black scout just as Megatron orders the seekers to attack. 

Diving to the young scout, yellow and black frame breaks apart and Energon fire zips past his wings before he transforms. Pedes connect to the scout’s chestplates. Launching off the mech’s frame, he lands on the ground after a flip and the scout goes tumbling over the grassy ground. He dispatches Aerodyne, Syndyasmos, Calireis and Skorpyos to watch the battle for him. 

Megatron soon finds Optimus Prime in battle, it’s always a show to watch the two leaders fight, both so equal in their strength and determination to win. 

Bumblebee charges at him and he grabs the scout, tossing him up in the air before transforming to go after the mech. Bumblebee grabs onto his wings when he gets near. Above the battlefield, he can see all the fights : Ironhide vs. Soundwave, Terror Twins vs. Seeker Trine, Ultra Magnus vs. Shockwave, Mirage vs. Streetwise, Jazz vs. Barricade, Optimus Prime vs.—

He stalls in the air as he sees Megatron throw Optimus across the ground. The Prime tumbles like a squishies’ ragdoll as Energon leaks from nearly every klep of the Prime’s frame. The Prime is slow to get up as Megatron stalks closer. The Prime only gets to his knees when Megatron’s fist connects to the blue helm and Optimus goes sprawling out on the ground. No other Autobot sees what is happening and the Prime can’t comm them, the comm jammer takes care of that. 

Megatron steps on the Prime’s chestplates pinning him to the ground, the fusion cannon charges. Transforming midair, he grabs Bumblebee and tosses him towards Jazz and Barricade, knocking the silver mech over. He dives for Megatron as the cannon charges fully. 

“Any last words, Prime,” Megatron aims at Optimus who struggles to get up with the silver warlord’s pede on his chestplates. His pede connects to the silver helm and Megatron’s cannon fires, the blast scorching the ground and the Prime’s shoulder but that’s better than that blue helm. 

Megatron stumbles as he lands from his flip off the mech’s helm. He stands between his leader and the Prime. Megatron’s glare turns on him. Those normally molten optics are now searing. 

“I always expected Starscream to be the one who turned against me,” Megatron wipes the Energon that leaks from his mouth. “Did Starscream command this?i can assure you if you stand down now the only one getting hurt will be that traitorous seeker.”

Optimusu’ cough behind him draws Megatron’s attention and the fusion cannon charges again. 

“I will take you both out,” Megatron aims at him. He charges towards the silver warlord, smaller frame dodging Megatron’s fist and he stabs his daggers into the mech’s sensitive hip and abdominal wiring. “You are a traitor, Snowfire. Do you honestly think you could survive on your own? Hunted by both Autobots and now Decepticons? Decepticons retreat!”

Megatron kicks him on takeoff and he scrambles over to the Prime. 

“You shouldn’t—“ the Prime coughs up Energon, vents wheezing and sputtering out Energon. Blue optics flicker every nanoklik. The red and blue frame is nearly covered in blue Energon. He furiously wipes away the Energon, staining his white servos as he tries to find the source. A blue servo grabs his weakly and moves it to a part of his chestplates to the right of his spark. One of the main Energon lines is torn through, completely unsalvageably shredded. The Prime’s frame is big, which means he has more Energon than normal mechs. He could last longer with this type of injury than other mechs. 

Reaching into his own frame to the right of his spark, he rips out his own line, Energon erupts from his chestplates. Purple mixing with blue, he pulls apart the Prime’s dented and crumpled chestplates to connect the line. The Prime’s frame goes limp under him as the Energon slows. Desperately wiping away more Energon, he sees the damage is extensive. Optimus was hit by the fusion cannon, his abdomen is nearly fried. The armor and wiring scorched and melted together. He touches his own abdominal armor, the one place he can’t get wiring from. Glancing to his proud wings along his back, they aren’t needed at the moment. He reaches back, gripping the top edge before yanking hard. He bites his glossa, denta sinking in to keep from screaming as the wing is ripped from its joint and searing hot pain courses through his neural net and warnings invade his HUD. Shutting off his HUD, he starts tearing into the wing and splicing the wires to the Prime’s charred ones. 

He’s done this many times to groups of mechs he’s captured for interrogations, using their still online friends to patch up their heavily damaged frame. 

He grabs the other wing, ripping it out of the joint to work on the rest of the Prime’s frame. The wings are nearly unrecognizable as they lay shredded and Energon soaked by the Prime’s frame. Reaching up to the back of his helm, he rips out the wire for his back sensors. 

Strong servos grab his shoulder and neck and he flies through the air. His processor nearly glitches at the thought of being in the air without wings. He crashes to the ground on his shoulder. He sees Ratchet and Ironhide at the Prime’s frame. 

Optimus will survive, he sighs. Optics flickering a bit, Ironhide stalks toward him and he offlines his optics. Be less threatening. 

~Follow us to the base, don’t be seen,~ he orders the symbionts still somewhere around. Ironhdie grabs his frame, blunt digits getting under his armor and he’s dragged over to the unconscious Prime and the Prime’s medic. 

He must have fallen offline because he’s onlining to the extreme curses and shouting and yelling and he just wants to bury a dagger into the obnoxious mech’s processor for being so loud. 

Onlining his optics, he sees the source of the angry curses. The red and white Autobot medic is hunched over his frame. He frowns a bit, he can’t feel his frame. Why can’t he feel his frame? The sparkeater medic is devouring his frame. Panic flares in his field. He sees the medic jump and he twist on the berth to find he’s strapped down. He growls but the medic injects something into the IV and his frame feels like it’s floating. He shouldn’t . . . shouldn’t . . . let . . . protect . . . abdomen. His optics flicker offline and silence greets him once again. 

Ratchet  
~~~~~~

When he saw the Decepticon assassin hunched over the Prime’s frame, he thought the worst. Ironhide had charged and flung the mech pedes away from the downed Prime. he looked over the Prime’s frame to gage the extent of the damage only to find most of the damage already repaired and a pile of Cybertronian matter shredded by the Prime’s frame. Ironhide drags the Decepticon over and the purple stained white and blue mech lies unmoving on the ground. He frowns at the gaping holes in the mech’s back. A seeker without wings. 

Ironhide had complained about the Decepticon’s frame shocking him and only when they arrived to the med-bay did he see what the mech meant. Any time his servo made contact with the Decepticon’s frame, electricity jumped and nearly shorted his digits. He had to get the mech’s frame clean so he had First Aid run the med-berth and all through the decontaminate solution washracks. 

While First Aid dealt with the unconscious Decepticon, he focused on the Prime, setting him up on an Energon IV and sparkmonitor. The Prime’s spark pulse is slow, too slow for a mech his size. Drawing the Prime’s Energon, he sees it’s impossibly dark blue, nearly purple. What would cause the Decepticon to use his own frame to repair the Prime? the Prime is obviously older than the Decepticon. Could he be the Prime’s creation? He’s never known the Prime to be close to anyone. He’s tried getting close but either the Prime didn’t notice the signs or ignored the signs because he isn’t interested or already taken. 

With the Prime stable, he turns his attention to the Decepticon. The mech’s white and blue frame isn’t dulling or anything like the Prime’s. The Prime’s is near gray yet the seeker who has more damage no is the same as he is normally. He pulls a CNA sample from the Decepticon to add it to the one he pulled from the Prime. He’ll test those later. Setting up an Energon IV with a mild sedative to keep the seeker compliant, he curses when electricity pops over their frames causing his digits to go limp. There is absolutely no way he can treat the Decepticon’s back if the mechs frame shocks him. 

He doesn’t notice the Decepticon onlining until panic flares in the mech’s field. Jumping, his servo brushes the mech’s arm, no shock. The Decepticon pulls at the restraints, growling as he injects a heavier sedative. Any time an unconscious mech enters his med-bay, he scans them to make sure they are not sparked. The scans for the Decepticon doesn’t even read him as a seeker much less sparked. He can’t see Decepticons getting themselves sparked up and then ripping out vital pieces to patch up the enemy. Without any more to do for either mech, he starts running the tests on the CNA. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

He onlines to a spark pulse, well the beeping of a spark pulse, his spark pulse. The med-bay is dark, the only light comes from the bars of light along the ceiling trim of the room. It’s only enough to see obstacles. There’s a dull ache in his frame, he should be in more pain. 

//Production halted: Insufficient amount of non-contaminated matter.//

He frowns at the message on his HUD. Production? Production of what? His processor is slow onlining until the lights flicker on. Processor onlining all at once causes his helm to ache and he sees the red and white medic. 

“You’re online,” the Medic walks over to his berth. Give the Medic an award for observation. He frowns when the Medic grabs his chin. “I’m not playing games, I really don’t care if you survive or not but before you offline for good, you will tell me what you did to Optimus. He won’t online and it’s been days since the battle.”

He glares at the Medic before growling, “I fought off Megatron so he wouldn’t deactivate the Prime. I am now a traitor to the Decepticons. I used my frame to repair the Prime’s. Without me, you all would be slaves to the Decepticons.”

“Unlikely story, did you hack into his processor? Plant a virus? Processor wipe—“

A crash in the other room has the Medic scurrying off. He frowns at the med-bay wall. Aerodyne lands on his chestplates, pecking at them. Production halted-oh-.

“Aerodyne, remove the IV,” he frowns, he doesn’t need the Medic pumping in toxins to his Energon. Aerodyne pulls out the needle before folding down onto his chestplates. He parts them and Aerodyne plugs into her slot. He sees Optimus’ frame healed, well there are still dents and scrapes and paint nanites at faded colors but overall he’s in functioning condition. His colors aren’t borderline gray anymore. The video ends in the Prime jolting online and causing the IV stand to clatter into the spark monitor and everything crashing to the floor. 

Ratchet  
~~~~~~

He rushes into the room to see Optimus looking over to the equipment on the floor. The spark pulse is slow for a mech online but the Prime is online. Nothing seriously wrong with him unless the Decepticon out there is controlling him. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks righting all the machines and glancing back at the Prime. The confused look in the Prime’s optics makes him worry. He has to remind himself serious trauma can cause amnesia and confusion and Optimus has had extreme frame trauma. The Prime is a mech just like every bot else and can suffer from these things. The mech shouldn’t even be online let alone functioning. 

“I feel like I’ve been pummeled into the ground by Megatron,” Optimus says frowning, voice staticky and not his normal volume. The Prime sounds tired and on the brink of extinguishing. 

“That’s apparently what happened,” he says coming over and drawing out a bit of Energon. He frowns when it is still that deep blue from four days ago. “How does Snowfire know so much about your frame to apparently know what parts of his own frame match yours?”

Optimus stares up to him, he frowns as those confusion filled optics turn blank for a pulse. “Why are you talking to Snowfire?”

“He’s currently stasis cuffed to a med-berth,” he frowns, not missing the sound of the familiar glyph Optimus used for the Decepticon instead of the enemy tone. 

“Take me to him,” Optimus says trying to move. The mech only succeeds in moving a digit. 

“Optimus, your frame is still weak,” he frowns but knows the Prime is stubborn when he feels he needs to do something. “Just let me get the chair.”

Optimus nods and he leaves the room to get the chair, a Cybertronian version of a wheelchair. Many mechs hate using it because they think it makes them look weak. Even Bumblebee refused to use it for his broken leg. He comes back in to find Optimus sitting on the edge of the berth, nearly ready to topple over. 

“I said to wait,” he smacks the Prime’s shoulder with barely any force. Helping the Prime in the chair, he can feel just how weak the Prime is. The stress on the mech’s cables, the labored venting of even such a small transfer from the berth to chair. He is reminded just how close they were to lose the Prime. The mech everyone considers to be stronger than them all now struggles to just move a few pedes off the berth to sit. Optimus slouches in the chair with a shaky exvent. Only in privacy like this does the Prime act like a normal mech, but he only ever gets to see the Prime like this when a battle goes to the worst case scenario. Hooking the IV to the back of the chair, he wheels the Prime out into the main room. 

He parks the Prime by the Decepticon, red optics watching them both. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

He glances over when he hears a noise and sees the Medic wheel out a very tired Prime. The red and blue frame is slouched in the chair, optics dim and vents rattling. Optics meeting the Prime’s , he gets the message: I’m okay, just tired. I needed to see you.

“Ratchet, I need to speak with him alone,” the Prime says, the Medic opens his mouth. “What do you think he could accomplish, he’s chained to the berth.”

The Medic turns and leaves, he nods when he sees the Medic close the office door behind the Prime.

“How are you?” Optimus asks leaning forwards slowly, servos coming up to his wrist bound by the cuff. He can see even that small of action is taxing on the Prime. 

“I’ve been better, I’ve been worse,” he says frowning when he realizes Optimus is trying to unlock the stasis cuffs. “I can get Aerod—“

“No, I can do this,” Optimus snaps, frowning a moment later. Apology and regret fill the Prime’s field. He waits while Optimus unlocks the stasis cuff. The Prime slouches back in the chair after it unlocks. “You can unlock the rest, code 39567032.”

He unlocks all the restraints before sitting on the edge of the berth in front of the Prime’s chair. Optimus frowns up at him for a pulse. 

“Where are your wings?” Optimus tries sitting up and reaching for him. He slips off the berth and sits on the Prime’s lap, claws trailing along the Prime’s abdomen. 

“They were put to better use other than pretty adornments,” he smiles up to the Prime before taking the Prime’s servos and holding them in his lap. “Besides, a prisoner doesn’t need to fly.”

“Snowfire, a seeker without wings spiral,” Optimus says, helm leaning forward to rest against his shoulder. 

“A host without symbionts spiral, I’ll be fine, Optimus,” he smiles, leaning down to the Prime’s helm. Lipplates brush along the Prime’s, digits brush against his interface panel. He did put them there for a reason.

“Snowfire, I . . . can’t,” Optimus frowns, field filling with apology. 

“I know,” he says entwining his digits with the Prime’s. “Still, it feels nice to be wanted.”

“I will always want you,” Optimus bites his lipplate before running his glossa over it. 

“I should go back to playing prisoner before the Medic—“

“He won’t until I comm him,” Optimus says, servos sliding along his hip. He cups the Prime’s helm, leaning in and biting at the Prime’s lipplates. 

“Which of your mechs is going to be nursemaid?” he asks kissing down the Prime’s neck. As much as he wants it to be him, the Medic would never allow a Decepticon assassin to watch over the Prime, be with him during recharge or wash him in the washracks. 

“You.”

“Your Medic won’t allow that,” he frowns, some other mech is going to see the Prime in the washracks, in berth. He’ll be locked in the brig while some other mech dotes on the Prime, touches the Prime, cares for his Prime. Every single Autobot has had a crush on the Prime, well all but Bumblebee. “You should get Bumblebee to play nursemaid.”

“Bumblebee has a broken leg,” Optimus frowns at him. “Someone decided to fling him into Jazz.”

“Well I didn’t mean to hurt him in my haste to save him, besides I thought that saboteur of yours would cushion his fall.”

Optimus laughs, wincing as he does. He kneads the Prime’s side.

“I would have picked a bulkier mech than one of the smallest Autobots.”

He shrugs,” Barricade was there to attend Bee.”

“Barricade? Is that the mech Bumblebee claims hasn’t stolen his spark?”

“The one and only,” he smirks straddling the Prime’s frame and cupping the blue helm. “Seems like Bumblebee takes after his Sire.”

“Or after his Carrier, seducing the enemy,” Optimus tightens his grip on his hip. 

“Soft sparked Autobot,” he leans in catching the Prime’s lipplates. The Prime’s servo slides to his aft and he moans, arms wrapping around the Prime’s neck. 

Ratchet  
~~~~~~

He frowns as he waits for the Prime to comm him. What if the whole ordeal was too much for Optimus and he passed out? What if the Decepticon escaped?

No. 

Optimus would comm him no matter what. He won’t betray the Prime’s trust. Optimus is a big bot to take care of himself. 

But Optimus is weak and impaired. He’ll need someone to look after him. He’s the only mech who has not designated someone to look over him in such cases, always saying if the event arose then he trusted his CMO’s decision. 

Ultra Magnus would be the obvious choice, both are of similar frame size and type. Ironhide is the Prime’s guard and able to hold the Prime’s weight. Bumblebee is on medical leave but has a broken leg. 

Opening the door quietly, he peeks out to see the Decepticon still detained on the berth and Optimus telling the mech if he behaved he would get asylum. Optimus can’t be serious in offering the assassin asylum. 

“As long as I get Energon I will behave,” the Decepticon says. Right the mech is still playing the traitor game. Optimus can’t see this is all an elaborate ploy to spy on the Autobots. Optimus always wants to see the good in mechs. Some mechs, though, will never change. 

:Ratchet, I am ready to return to my room,: Optimus comms him. He steps out of his office. The Decepticon lies on the berth, optics offline. He wheels Optimus back into the private room, helping the mech onto the berth. 

He leaves the Prime and heads to his office for the results of the CNA test. The work the Decepticon did repairing the Prime’s frame was exceptional, the wiring spliced together seamlessly. The Decepticon has never been labeled a medic. He’s never heard of the mech attending Academies for medical, yet he can splice wires and cables that won’t leave scaring. After they deem the Decepticon not a threat, he will try to persuade the mech to become a medic. He could use a mech like that in the med-bay. 

The results of the CNA test are in and he looks at the data-pad. The Prime and the Decepticon are not related. Why would the Decepticon save the Prime then?

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

He hears the Medic leave the Prime’s room. The Medic goes back to his office, not even sparing him a glance. Typical Autobot. Unable to deal with reality. 

Recharge soon claims him and he’s only onlined a few times during the recharge cycle by the noises of the med-bay. 

He onlines to the Medic in the med-bay. The Medic cleans the tools and machines. The Medic stops what he’s doing before walking to the Prime’s room. The Medic rolls the Prime out in the chair to his berth. The Medic goes on about his business. The Prime glances over to the Medic before looking at him. 

Ratchet  
~~~~~~

He cleans the medical equipment on his down time. His comm pings with the Prime’s frequency. 

:I am ready to get up,: Optimus says. The Prime is no longer a medical risk and can be discharged, he just needs to designate a mech to take care of him. He wheels the Prime in the med-bay main room. The Decepticon glances at them before he returns to clean the tools. 

:Have you picked the mech who will help you recover?: he asks the Prime.

:Yes,: the Prime says, voice a little hesitant. 

:Well, who is it?: he asks, Optimus probably picked Ironhide. They seem close. 

:Snowfire,: the Prime says, he nearly drops the spark scanner in his servos. 

:Absolutely not, Optimus,: he says turning around and glaring at the Prime. :When I said you need to pick a mech to help you as you recover I did not mean the Decepticon.:

:Ratchet, someone needs to watch him and I need assistance,: Optimus says. :Besides if he wanted me deactivated he wouldn’t have fought off Megatron.:

:You do know he would have to wash you, unless you pick another mech,: he frowns at the tools before him. He knows Optimus is a very private mech, more so than anyone else he’s known, well except for the younglings. 

:Ratchet, I will be fine,: Optimus sighs. The Prime and his stubbornness. 

:I will weld your aft to the berth if he injures you,: he frowns but gives Optimus medical release into the Decepticon’s care. The other officers are going to love this idea. Their meeting isn’t until six more days. Ample enough time for the Decepticon to be interrogated and watched and data gathered. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

He watches Optimus reach over and unlock the stasis cuffs. Frowning in confusion, he glances to the Medic. The Medic’s back is to him and he looks at the Prime. Has Optimus lost it? Did the cannon knock something loose in the Prime’s processor? Optimus motions to the other cuffs. 

“Ratchet is releasing me into your capable care and I will be watching over you,” Optimus says as he cautiously sits up on the berth. 

“You had better not bring any harm to Optimus,” the Medic glares at him, holding a very sharp, very clean torture tool or something of the like. 

“If I had wanted him harmed why would I have saved him?” he hops from the berth. This stay is looking brighter already. “Where to first, master?”

“Snowfire,” Optimus glares up ate him, he smirks, optics dimming at that heated glare. “Washracks, I have dust between my armor.”

“As you command, master.”

“Snowfire, Optimus or Prime would do.”

“Yes, master.”

“Snowfire.”

Ratchet  
~~~~~~

He watches the Decepticon around the Prime, watching for any signs of ill will. The threat seemed to miss it’s mark with the mech. The Decepticon very nearly stated the same thing the Prime had told him. 

Flinching when the Decepticon calls Optimus master, he can’t help but fear this mech thinks he’s become a slave. He thought Optimus would reprimand the mech, give a speech on freedom or at least react more than a glare and warning tone. He knows Optimus is good at reading mechs in the Autobots but a Decepticon who is considered a prisoner. If he didn’t know any better he’d think they had been friends. Or more. 

How could he even think Optimus, the Prime would have any sort of relationship to a Decepticon assassin. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

He wheels Optimus into the public washracks to see the stalls are private stalls, unlike the Decepticons non-officer ones, but an oil bath sits in the corner. 

“Oil bath or stall?” he asks leaning down to kiss the Prime’s antenna and down his jaw. 

“Stall,” Optimus says pointing to one of the bigger ones, the one in the corner by the oil bath. He wheels the Prime in, closing and locking the door. He turns to the Prime who reaches out to grab his servos. The mech pulls him down on his lap, servos coming up to cup his helm. Solvent rains down on them and he cups the Prime’s helm. 

“You’re feeling much better,” he smirks down to the Prime. Biting his own lipplate as he looks into the blue optics. 

“It’s slowly draining,” Optimus trails his digits down his sides. “I want to feel you though.”

“No overloading or the Hatchet might dismantle me,” he smiles, panel sliding open. 

“Why do the Decepticons call him that?” the Prime asks, spike panel opening but spike not pressurizing. Optimus frowns down at his spike housing. He can’t help but laugh and kisses the Prime’s pout. His claw slips into the housing, trailing along the tip of the Prime’s spike. This is the first time the Prime’s spike hasn’t immediately pressurized in his company. He kisses along the Prime’s jaw and up to his antenna. Slowly the spike pressurizes into his servos. 

“We—they have a Hatchet, he’s a mech who barely qualifies as a medic and he’d rather dismantle stuff and reform it rather than repair it.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Optimus frowns a bit before moaning when he kisses that frown. 

“Do you want fragged or do you want to talk about Hatchets?” he smirks, claw trailing up the Prime’s spike. 

“The first one,” Optimus returns his smirk, servos sliding up his thighs. 

“Say it,” he mirrors the Prime’s smirk and trailing a claw along an antenna. 

“I want fragged,” Optimus moans, making him smile down at the mech.

“What would the Autobots say if they learned their perfect, little, pure, soft sparked, naïve, librarian of a Prime was begging to be fragged by a dangerous, lethal, conniving Decepticon?”

“That better be Carrier in there Sire,” Bumblebee’s voice makes them jump. 

“It is sweetspark,” he gins down at the Prime. “You almost got caught, naughty Prime.”

Optimus leans closer, lipplates brushing against his audio, “why don’t you just frag me, Decepticon?”

Biting the Prime’s lipplate, he sinks down on the spike causing Optimus to moan. Optimus kisses his neck and chestplates. The kisses slowly stop and he glances down to the Prime. those blue optics flicker. He cups the Prime’s helm. 

“I am more tired than I thought,” Optimus frowns up at him. 

“That’s alright, we have later,” he smiles kissing the Prime and moves off the mech’s lap. Grabbing the brush, he starts washing down the Prime’s frame. He spends groons washing the red and blue frame as Optimus recharges. Every seam, every crevice, every joint, every plate. Everything about the Prime’s frame relays exhaustion. Tipping the Prime’s helm back, he presses his lipplates against the Prime’s. 

By the time he has the Prime’s frame clean and his frame clean, it’s well after the Autobot’s recharge cycle. Wheeling the Prime out, Optimus is still in recharge. How are they going to get in the Prime’s quarters?

“What did you do, Decepticon?” the Medic’s voice makes him jump. He frowns at the mech. What does the Medic think he’d do?”

“I gave him a wash, it’s not my fault the organic sludge ended up getting on me,” he glowers at the Medic. Did the mech really think he’d harm the Prime so soon? “He fell into recharge halfway through.”

“Just make sure he recharges in his berth, not the chair,” the Medic says and hands him a data-pad. “This is your temporary code, it’ll get you in the Prime’s quarters for now. It’s also your Energon ration. Everything you need to know is in here.”

He thanks the Medic and starts walking back towards the medical bay. Getting to the hallway by the medical bay, he realizes that he has no idea where the Prime’s quarters are. Looking on the data-pad, there’s a map of the base, of course there are no main doors listed. At least he was headed in the right direction, an extremely long roundabout way. This way takes him past the rec room anyway. He can get some Energon. 

The rec room is completely empty and he wheels the recharging Prime to the dispenser. He types in the eight digit code the Medic gave him before frowning. Only one option, medical grade. Just the basic medical grade. It’s better than nothing he supposes. His cube fills and he sets in on the Prime’s lap. Mech has to be useful somehow. 

The Prime gave him an eight digit code. Would that work on the dispenser? He types in the code and it comes up to more than the basic Energon. He smirks, the Prime gave him the Prime code. The code that is only rivaled by the Medic code. He selects sweetened high grade and sets it on the Prime’s lap. He pats the mech’s helm, smile still plastered on his faceplates. 

He reaches the Prime’s quarters, typing in his code, the door opens slowly. The lights come on dimly and he wheels the Prime into the berthroom. Parking the chair by the berth, he sets the cubes on the berthside table. Slipping his arms under the Prime’s, he hoists the larger mech up before throwing him on the berth. The Prime is a lot heavier than he looks. He crawls into berth beside the Prime, pulling the other’s arm around him. This had better not be a recharge flux.


	2. The Librarian

Optimus Prime  
~~~~~~~~~~~

Snowfire. His dream, recharge flux of Snowfire makes his spark hurt. He wants it to be real, well minus he almost deactivating and Snowfire being labeled a traitor and hanging on the hopes that the Autobots don’t vote him away. He hates the war. 

Onlining slowly, he feels a weight in his arms, the warmth of a frame against his front, the soft venting of a mech. Dread fills him. Someone spiked his Energon at Jazz’s recent party. He doesn’t even remember a party. He made a grave mistake. He had no problem with Snowfire’s ‘cheat on me and your spark will never join the Well because I’ll have it in a case’ because bondmates were supposed to love each other and no one else. He knows of bondmates who fall out of love. 

Onlining his optics to see who he is going to go in suspension for, he frowns at the white helm. No Autobot has a white helm—wait Ratchet has a white helm. He knows the medic has a crush on him but the frame in his arms is lithe. Ratchet’s frame is bigger than this mech. 

Prowl has a white helm and smaller that Ratchet. The mech in his arms turns over and glances up to him, red optics glance up at him. His spark soars as he looks down at Snowfire. He leans down, wincing when his frame aches. 

“I put the fear in you didn’t i?” Snowfire snickers leaning up and kissing him. He pulls Snowfire by the hip to straddle him. He can tell Snowfire feels how warm his frame is. His charge doesn’t care that his frame is weak. He probably should have had another mech take care of him. They wouldn’t be making his frame run hot. 

His panel slides open as Snowfire leans over his frame, servos cupping his helm. 

“I brought us some Energon last . . .” he sees Snowfire’s hesitation. They’ve decided to use human time so orns are no longer used. 

“Yesterday,” he fills in. “That’s what the humans call their previous orns.”

Snowfire nods and slips off his frame to get the cubes. Of course his injuries triggered carrier Snowfire protocols. If Ratchet only knew how attentive Snowfire was, he’d probably have Snowfire hold a class on how to take care of a mech. he frowns when he sees the cube Snowfire has for himself, the brighter color of High Grade Energon. 

“How did you get high grade?” he frowns, only officer codes could select high grade. Snowfire’s guest code would only select standard medical grade and standard Energon. Snowfire smirks at him as the white mech sits against the wall. 

“I may have realized you gave me the Prime code,” Snowfire sips the medical grade cube before handing it to him. Snowfire climbs back onto his frame, aft sliding against his spike. He moans into his cube. “Besides if you want my wings back I need seeker medical grade. High grade is the next best thing.”

“I will have Ratchet add seeker medical grade to your Energon list,” he says sending a comm to the medic. 

“Have him leave out the iron,” he sees Snowfire frown. Normally iron is the main ingredient to their Energon. He sends the amendment. Maybe it’s a seeker thing. Snowfire’s cube is finished before he’s even halfway through his. Medical grade is thicker and less appealing. Snowfire leans up to his cube, optics never leaving his and servos slide against his to tip the cube. Fans kick on as Snowfire sips his cube keeping their optics locked on each other’s. Was Snowfire starved in the Decepticons? “Finish the cube, Prime, then I’ll give you a reward.”

He finishes the cube a half hour later, fifteen pulses. Snowfire takes the cube and tosses it to the floor. White clawed servos grab one of his servos and he watches the white mech kiss his digits before running the digits down the white chestplates. The barely there touch causes his digits to twitch. Their servos get to his abdominal armor, something seems off. Before he can ask though, he sees the white, blue and black spike. Snowfire rarely has his spike out, their servos get closer but Snowfire pulls his servo between his thighs. He pouts at leaving the rarely seen spike untouched. 

Digits slip into Snowfire’s valve causing the smaller mech to moan. Those torturous white servos reach for his other servo, they follow the same path but this time stops at that treasured spike. Snowfire wraps his blue servo around the hilt of the spike before leaning back. The position gives him a definitive view of how different Snowfire’s abdomen is from the last time they were together. Snowfire would tell him if something was wrong, wouldn’t he?

The younger mech moans as he pumps the spike, arching and grinding down into the servo cupping his valve. He gasps when claws trail along his own spike. Claws brush the folds of his valve. Charge races through his frame, he cries out in overload but the overload feels different, less taking on his weak frame. He looks up, Snowfire’s frame sparks with electricity, the charge dancing along the white servo resting just under his spark chamber. 

Snowfire screams out, transfluid covering both their frames and lubricant dripping down onto the berth. Snowfire collapses on his frame, frame still pinging from overheated systems. He notices Snowfire’s back, where his wings were are shredded wires and gaping holes. The mech had to have been in pain with the solvent running into them. 

Snowfire said his wings were put to better use. Uneasiness in his tanks come at the realization the wiring and plating in his frame is from those beautiful wings. It isn’t unheard of battlefield repairs being made by using parts of deactivated frames but for them to be used from an online mech. 

:Optimus,: Ratchet’s voice comes over the comm. :Has the Decepticon been injured? Why does he require seeker medical grade? He isn’t a seeker.:

:He is a seeker, half seeker,: he frowns at Ratchet’s mood. It’s unlike the medic to refuse to treat a mech. :Snowfire is supposed to have wings. He used them to repair my frame.:

“We don’t have to resources to build wings,: Ratchet says. He frowns as he trails his digits around the holes. If Snowfire was an Autobot, they would. 

:Just allow him the seeker medical grade, I know we have those resources,: he frowns. 

:A seeker can’t rebuild his own wings,: Ratchet’s frown is evident. :Unless he’s sparked or halfway part host and the rumors about hosts are true. No iron would explain being sparked, forming sparklings can’t take iron or they form brittle armor.:

Is Snowfire . . . could he be sparked? No, he can’t. Their last time was months ago . . . unless . . .

:He’s not sparked, it’s a seeker thing,: he frowns and a notification on Snowfire’s medical file has seeker medical grade as his ration. Ratchet disconnects the comm. The Autobots can’t know he’s a host or the symbionts would have to be locked up and a seeker without wings spiral just as fast as a host without symbionts. 

He hasn’t seen on personally spiral but Snowfire has and said it wasn’t pretty. This coming from a mech he knows has tortured mechs and has a slightly skewed version of pretty. 

Snowfire wouldn’t lie to him about being sparked, would he? Trailing his digits over the white helm. If Snowfire did cheat on him, it wouldn’t change his love for him. Snowfire did save him from Megatron after all. He wraps his arms around the mech. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

He onlines on top of a mech, venting in deeply, the smell of the Prime fills him and he glances up to see Optimus in recharge. He frowns as he shifts off his abdomen. 

//Production halted: Insufficient fuel source.//

He groans. He wants to abolish that warning. He’s seen that one for orns. Now between his wings needing repaired and whatever grade of Energon he’s allowed, he might as well halt production indefinitely. Heh’hs not going to be getting any transfluid to helm any time soon either. 

He curls up against the Prime’s side, servos resting on his abdomen. Did Optimus notice the difference? When the Prime onlines, will they have that awkward conversation? He knows Optimus knows he’d bring up if something was wrong. There’s nothing wrong, per se, but just a picky parasite who wants one thing and refuses everything else of lower quality instead of using it and developing slower. 

Bumblebee wasn’t this picky but of course they were on Cybertron and he could get seeker grade. If only Megatron knew the effects of seeker grade on seekers, the Decepticons would win servos down. Glancing down the Prime’s frame, dents and scrapes are still prominent on the red and blue frame but the paint nanites are back to normal. 

His optics land on the Prime’s open panel. Leaning up, he glances up at the Prime. Surely he could coax the Prime into a gentle overload. Climbing on the Prime’s frame, his back to the Prime. he frowns, his back with the gaping wounds where his wings once were. The only reason he’s not in pain is because he ripped out the sensor wires. He can’t feel anything on his back. 

He sits on the Prime’s abdomen, the tip of the Prime’s spike sits just inside the housing. Claw slipping into and trailing along the tip, a spark of electricity leaves his frame to the Prime’s spike. The red, blue and silver spike pressurizes immediately and he glances over his shoulder to see the Prime still in recharge. 

Slowly he pumps the spike, sending surges of electricity along it. Transfluid begins leaking out of the tip and he starts spreading it over the spike. He slips over the slick spike, sinking down slowly. The Prime’s fans kick on and he glances back to see the Prime still in recharge. 

Optimus Prime  
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Onlining to soft, quiet moans, he feels his spike warm and pulsing. He frowns at the feeling onlu in his spike. He onlines his optics to see Snowfire’s back, frowning at the extensive damage. The wires are not only shredded, they’re charred. He reaches up slowly, digits lightly touching Snowfire’s back. Snowfire arches and moans softly and he feels transfluid leave his spike. It doesn’t feel like an overload. He rests his servo on Snowfire’s back, the mech starts crying. Rubbing the mech’s back does nothing to comfort him. Leaning up, he sees the reason. Just below Snowfire’s right audio is a missing wire. His sensor net receiver for his back. Snowfire is in enough pain to have rather not feel anything and make his back vulnerable. 

He inspects the holes, they seem cleaned out, of course Ratchet had to have known Snowfire had wings, he cleaned the wounds. Jagged armor around the holes will make it hard for the repairs to happen. Trailing the edges, Snowfire doesn’t flinch. Slowly he dips his digit into the cavity, it goes all the way to the protoform. 

He wants to comfort the younger mech but when else will he get the opportunity to inspect the damage? Finding the latches of Snowfire’s back armor, it comes off easy enough without Snowfire knowing it. The mech continues to sob quietly. He lays the armor on the berth before looking at the mech’s protoform. Crusted Energon runs down the blue tinted protoform. Solvent streaks are dried along the mech’s back, regular from their wash and medical solvent. Ratchet didn’t clean the wounds. He frowns at the lack of care from Ratchet. He expected more from his CMO. 

Where his wings were connected, he can see into his frame, the struts are jagged, Energon is crusted around them and he can see the soft bluish purple glow of his spark. They needed to get this cleaned and covered. He replaces the armor and slides his servos around Snowfire’s hips. Snowfire jumps off his spike and nearly topples off the berth. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles, wincing a bit as it still hurts. Snowfire turns around cupping his helm and kissing him. “We need to go back to the medical bay.”

“Did . . . did I hurt you?” Snowfire jumps off his frame and looks over him. 

“No, I just need to attend to something,” he smiles, scooting to the edge of the berth. “Besides Ratcheht will be gone in a few minutes for his Energon break.”

“Why do you need the med-bay free of your medic?” Snowfire helps him into the chair. He frowns when Snowfire wheels him to the door. The Decepticon would never willingly go to the med-bay. 

The med-bay doors come up and open for them. The main room is empty of any mechs. 

“What does my master need?” Snowfire smirks, tipping his helm back and capturing his lipplates. 

“Cleaning rags, Energon cleanser, sauntering stick, plating mesh,” he says, Snowfire glances back at him. 

“Your medic didn’t address all of your injuries?” Snowfire frowns gathering the stuff and handing it to him. 

“I need brushes also,” he says. “I’ll tell you in the room.”

Snowfire wheels him into one of the private rooms and uses the Prime code to lock it. Snowfire parks him at the middle of the berth. 

“A little higher,” he points to the helm of the berth. Snowfire frowns down at him. 

“How do you expect to lie down on the berth to let me fix this mysterious wound,” Snowfire crosses his arms. 

“Just get me on the berth up there,” he says and Snowfire helps him stand and sit on the berth. Snowfire wheels the chair a bit away from the berth before crossing his arms again. He pats the berth beside him, Snowfire huffs but steps up to the berth. The medical supplies sit on his right side. He frowns a little when Snowfire doesn’t hop up beside him like normal. 

He pulls Snowfire towards him to lay on his front, Snowfire pulls away frowning. “What are you doing, Prime?” 

“Someone needs to clean your back and I doubt you’d want Ratchet to be anywhere near your protoformed back. Let me clean it so it’s less of a strain on your own frame.”

“Fine,” Snowfire growls unlocking his back armor and laying his chest over his legs. He frowns when he feels Snowfire’s abdomen against his leg, it’s harder than normal. Usually abdominal armor can move, it allows them to bend over and transform easily. He starts cleaning out the holes of the crusted Energon, Snowfire no much as twitches as he lies across him playing with the med-berth sheets. 

Even with the crusted Energon cleaned off, the normally light bluish protoform is nearly black. 

Rust infection. 

“We need rust solvent,” he frowns, rust infections aren’t lethal but they’re annoying and hard to deal with the longer they’re left. 

“Fine, where is it?” Snowfire sighs before slipping off the berth to go to the door.

“Do you not want your back armor?” he looks over at it.

“Your medic is still on break?” he nods when the white mech glances back at him. “I’ll be fine. No one else is in the locked med-bay.”

He shakes his helm and Snowfire slips out of the room. Snowfire isn’t acting normal. He’s not the showy arrogant youngling he’s known since Cybertron. He’s more reserved and guarded. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

Truth be told, he could care less about a rust infection. There’s no way the Autobots will allow him free roam of the base. Or raising this parasite. All they see is a big, well small actually, mean, bad Decepticon. 

If he wasn’t bonded to Optimus, he’s sure he’d be locked away in the brig and forgotten about. He reaches the main room as the med-bay doors open. Backing into the hallway, he peeks out to see the Medic dragging the black painted Armory towards the office. The mechs servos always touching each other’s frame. He’s well away of the Medic’s attraction to the Prime, Optimus has commented on it many times. There’s a crash in the office before the obvious sounds of mechs interfacing, moans, cries and armor crashing and scraping. The Medic sure doesn’t keep himself for the Prime. 

He goes to the cabinet with the rust solvent and grabs a can of it and a scrubber. 

Optimus Prime  
~~~~~~~~~~~~

He flinches when he hears the crash in the medical bay, did something happen to Snowfire? The door opening makes him jump and Snowfire slips in and locks it. 

“Your Medic and Armory collided in the office,” Snowfire says climbing on the berth and handing him the can and scrubber. Lipplates meet his, glossa slipping over his lipplates before Snowfire lies down over his lap again. 

“You are going to tease me enough until I’m healed that I’m going to pin you to the berth and pound you into it,” he says sliding his servo to the mech’s aft. Snowfire purrs and he resumes cleaning the wounds. He scrapes a great deal away from Snowfire’s internals only stopping when Snowfire hisses and nearly shreds the sheets in his claws. 

“Is that damaged?” Snowfire growls out and he realizes what he’s reached. The tip of Snowfire’s gestation chamber. He shines a light into the cavity to see a bit of rust on it. 

“There’s some rust, it’s not as bad as it has been around your wing struts,” he frowns, he knows Snowfire cherishes carrying. Did Snowfire just like carrying or just like carrying his sparklings? Would Snowfire go to another mech just to carry or was he forced?

He scrubs the rust off the chamber to find that it was just dust from his cleaning. He inspects the cavity for anymore rust before patching up the protoform with the mesh and welder. The mesh will dissolve when the frame heals, until then there won’t be any more rust in there. 

He picks up Snowfire’s back armor to clean when Snowfire sits up and takes it from his servos. 

“It’s crystal armor, it doesn’t rust,” Snowfire says breaking off the jagged edges and replacing it with white crystals. Snowfire hands it back and he locks it on. Servo resting on the white back, he frowns when Snowfire doesn’t lean into him. 

“As much as I want to overload into you, I’d rather feel it more,” he says as Snowfire gently pushes him down on the berth to straddle. Lipplates connect causing him to moan, electricity zaps make his frame tingle. Snowfire pulls away to crawl between his legs which he spreads. Sharp glossa sliding over his spike panel, it retracts immediately. Snowfire kisses the pressurizing spike, small zaps cause him to gasp every time. That glossa runs the length of his spike before Snowfire takes his spike into his intake. 

It’s short lived as his spike gets lubricated and Snowfire climbs onto his lap. He moans as the other sinks down on him. His optics dim a bit as Snowfire rock on him. Snowfire leans up to bite his bottom lipplate. He slides his servos along Snowfire’s hips. A queasiness comes in his tank and he pushes Snowfire away just as he turns and purges. Snowfire’s at his side massaging his back. Deep blue Energon covers the floor. 

The door pings with a code and he feels his panel being closed. He purges again, this time metal comes up. He nearly slips off the berth as he leans over. Strong servos grip his shoulders, stronger than Snowfire. They pick him up and set him on the berth. A waste bin is shoved in his servos and he sees Snowfire huddled on the floor and Ironhide going over to him. 

“Stop,” he tries to shout but just garbled static comes out. What stops the mech is him crashing to the floor off the berth. Ratchet rushes over to him. 

“Wh-What’s wrong with him?” Snowfire asks causing both mechs to glance over him. 

“Why don’t you tell us what you did,” Ironhide yells. 

“Why are you even in here?” Ratchet asks, glancing to him then to Snowfire.

“I was attending to Snowfire’s wing joints,” he says finally ending with purging. “You didn’t clean out the wing cavities. That is unlike you Ratchet.”

“No one ever deactivated from an exposed protoform,” Ratchet crosses his arms. “He is probably the reason you’re purging all over the place. Who knows what all he did to you on the battlefield.”

“Snowfire didn’t do anything to me,” he shouts. 

“Stop using the familiar tone glyph,” Ratchet yells. 

“Snowfire is my bonded! I will not let you degrade him. If we were on Cybertron, you would be tried for crimes against the Prime—“

“if we were on Cybertron, you would be executed for treason,” Ironhide jabs a finger to his chest. “The Prime is not above the law.”

“I can no longer without any doubt say that you are fit to fulfill your role as Prime,” Ratchet says jotting down something in the data-pad. “You both will go to the brig until we decide your fate.”

“No!” he screams as Snowfire’s dragged out of the room. 

He jumps online, something crashes to the floor. The room is dim and he frowns as this isn’t his berthroom. Where is he? Did they take him to an off-site base? Where is Snowfire?

“Warn a wingless seeker when you launch them,” Snowfire’s growl makes him jump and he looks down to the floor. The white mech picks himself off the floor to sit back to him. 

“What are you doing down there?” he asks frowning. 

“Oh just chilling, decided ‘hey, I need to hard impact inspect the Autobot medical bay floor’,” Snowfire growls. “It’s hard.”

“Where did Ironhide and Ratchet go?” he frowns. They were on their way to the brig, what changed their minds? Snowfire shrugs. 

“Last time I saw them, Armor and Medic were locked in the office fragging each other,” Snowfire continues to sit on the floor causing him to frown. 

“But they came in here and nearly caught us interfacing, I was purging my internals and they . . . learned of us.”

“No, glitch aft, I was going to spike you but your tired aft fell into recharge before my spike even pressurized.”

It was all a dream?

“Are you going to stay down there the rest of the night?” he asks, Snowfire looks up at him. 

“I will if you’re not going to throw me off the berth again,” Snowfire glances up at him, arms crossed. 

‘I am sorry,” he can’t help but chuckle and holds out his servo. 

“You’re not taking whatever that fragging medic of yours gave you again,” Snowfire crawls over his frame to lie against the wall. The younger mech crosses his arms with a huff. 

“Agreed, but I don’t think he gave me anything,” he says, Snowfire turns on his side, propping himself up. 

“So let me get this straight, you make it a habit of throwing your bonded out of the berth in the middle of recharge? Good to know.”

“I think we need to escape before Ratchet finds us,” he scoots to the edge of the berth. Snowfire crawls off, stealing a kiss before retrieving the chair. 

“Do you think we could stop by the rec room to get a cube?” he glances back to see Snowfire galnces down at the berth when the mech helps him into the chair. 

“You can have as many cubes as you want, we don’t limit them anymore. You should have the seeker medical grade option now, without the iron.”

Snowfire wheels them out of the medical bay and into the rec room. Snowfire selects the medical grade for both of them and they return to his quarters. Snowfire helps him in the berth before walking to the other sidie and letting his back armor unlock and fall to the ground. He raises an optical ridge. 

“My repair system works faster in recharge, I don’t want the wings to get stuck,” Snowfire says climbing on the berth and he hands the white mech his Energon. They take a sip, he coughs and hands the Energon to Snowfire. Snowfire sits next to him snickering into his right cube. Medical grade makes all the Energon look the same. Snowfire’s cube is gone and his is only halfway. 

“Were youu starved in the Decepticons?” he asks when Snowfire tips his cube for a sip. 

“Our-their Energon wasn’t the best quality and there wasn’t seeker grade,” Snowfire says sitting back on the berth. “I . . . do need some iron but not as much as medical grade normally has in it.”

“You can add additives in it, even medical grade,” he says offering Snowfire the rest of his cube, it’s only an eighth of it. Snowfire takes it and downs it in one go. “When will you have your back sensors reconnected?”

“When the wire repairs, it should be reconnected next-next quartex,” Snowfire says and scoots down on the berth. He does the same and Snowfire backs to him, back securely against his frame. He wraps his arms around Snowfire’s waist, pressing a kiss to the white helm. 

He wouldn’t mind staying in berth like this every day.


	3. The Warden

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

Something brushes against his sensitive sensors in his back. They aren’t wing sensors but . . . where are his wing sensors? Someone took his wings! A servo slides over his hip. This mech stole his wings and trying to steal more. All systems onlining at once, he jumps away hearing a scream and his throat hurts. He crashes to the floor on his shoulder and pedes caught in something.

He hears his designation from a familiar voice before blue optics from a mostly blue helm peek over the berth edge. 

“I did not throw you this time,” Optimus starts laughing as he glares up at the mech. in all his time recharging beside the Autobot leader, who he is bonded to by spark, he’s never read him as enemy or reacted this way. Stupid fraggin’ wings. 

His pedes are freed and he tries getting off the floor only to find that his back hurts. Rolling to his front, he lifts himself off the floor and plops down on the berth. 

//Production halted: insufficient fuel source. Insufficient materials. Resources redirected.//

//Repair in progress: All resources redirected: Wing repair.//

“Snowfire . . .” the Prime frowns, he glances down to see the blue helm beside his leg. His optics trail along the mech’s frame twisted oddly in haste to check on him. “I can’t move.”

He bursts out laughing, snorting as he shakes the whole berth with his laugh. Optimus pouts up at him before a smile tugs at his lipplates and the Prime starts laughing. He crawls over to the Prime’s legs before pushing them straight. 

Optimus rolls on his back before pushing himself to sit up. He leans closer where he sits hip by hip to the Prime and kisses the mech. He wouldn’t mind spending forever in the Prime’s quarters if that meant always being with him. 

“I do need to return back to work,” Optimus sighs as he cups his helm. His servo trails down the Prime’s chestplates. 

“What happens to me while you’re working?” he frowns, no way with the Autobots trust a Decepticon in the room with confidential reports. 

“Prowl will be in my office assisting me with reports,” Optimus says scooting to the edge of the berth. “Prowl will keep his sensors on you. It will help your case for you to have him realize you’re not dangerous.”

“Oh, but I am dangerous,” he smirks, claws coming to the Prime’s neck. Optimus frowns tipping his helm a bit as he leans into catch the Prime’s lipplates. 

“I am serious Snowfire, I need the Autobots to accept you,” Optimus frowns up at him as he stands in front of the Prime. 

He sighs before leaning between the Prime’s spread legs and cupping the blue helm. “I will not harm your precious Autobots but I will defend myself if I need to.” 

“Comm me if you need to,” Optimus says and he helps the Prime in the chair. He wheels the Prime to the rec room for their Energon, unlike the two previous visits, some Autobots mingle in there. He stops at the doorway. Optimus glances up at him before he takes a vent and pushes the Prime into the room. He notices the Autobots stop what they are doing and watch him. Unlike the other times Optimus types in his own code. He hands the Prime his Energon cube and types in his code. 

Flinching when he hears one of the Autobots whisper, “Why couldn’t the Prime get an Autobot to help him.”, “I know, everyone would jump at the chance to help the Prime.”, “Who wouldn’t want the chance to touch that frame.”, “I heard he’s still sealed and that’s why he doesn’t let mechs touch him.” 

Optimus pulls the cube from his servos making him jump, he wheels the Prime out of the rec room. “Snowfire, what did you hear?”

“Nothing important,” he says following Optimus’ direction to the office. When they reach the Prime’s office, Prowl stands at the doorway and Optimus types in his code. He adverts his optics when he meets Prowl’s. He puts Optimus in front of the desk, Prowl takes Optimus’ normal chair. He goes to the corner of the room farthest from the door and the two Autobots. Sitting down, he sees the Prime’s frown. Optimus opens his mouth but Prowl starts asking where he wants to start. 

Prowl  
~~~~~~

He was told Optimus picked the Decepticon to help him as the Prime recovers. He could have picked better mechs to help him with daily activities. Of course his is his bonded as is all bonded mechs. Only unbonded mechs need to designate someone. Spotting the Prime and the Decepticon, his frown deepens. The Decepticon was a seeker, wasn’t he, but the white mech has no wings. Seekers spiral within days of no flight, and half that without the sensory input from their wings. 

The Decepticon meets his optics before looking down. He frowns at the slave like behavior. Optimus wouldn’t force a mech to act like a slave. He follows the two in, the Decepticon wheels the Prime to his desk before walking to the furthest corner and sits down. He glances to the Prime, the frown, tight optics and tense field, the Decepticon is acting like this on his own. He turns to their work, doorwings keeping the Decepticon on his processor. 

Hours pass by and he glances up from his data work. The Decepticon is still in the corner, he glances over to see the mech slouched over awkwardly. Recharge. He glances to the Prime to see the mech’s helm tilted down, optics offline, the data-pad barely hanging in the mech’s servo. Before he can catch it, a smile slips to his lipplates. 

A crash startles the Prime online, he glances over to the Decepticon to see the white mech lying on the floor still in recharge. 

“I think it’s time for an Energon break,” the Prime says taking the cubes they brought in. “Will you take me over to him?” 

He wheels the Prime over. The Decepticon doesn’t make any move. If it weren’t for the quiet systems, he’d think the mech deactivated. 

“Snowfire,” he frowns when the Prime uses the glyph accent he uses with the Autobots. The Decepticon shifts, red optics glance up to Optimus, a smile comes to the white mech’s lipplates when the Prime hands him the Energon cube. 

“Is it the right one this time??” the Decepticon asks. The Prime and Decepticon have different-oh-the Decepticon would have seeker medical grade. Optimus ended up drinking seeker grade? The Decepticon takes a sip of the Energon before handing it back to the Prime. He frowns at the Prime. Only letting the Decepticon a sip? Optimus hands the Decepticon the other cube and begins drinking from the one he got back. 

Normally mechs don’t drink from a cube another used, it’s not that they could get viruses from it but it’s just not done. Unless they’re bondmates or Jazz. Why wouldn’t Optimus sip the cube first though? A small amount of the wrong Energon wouldn’t harm a mech, especially one the size of Optimus. 

“Prowl, have you gotten a cube yet?” Optimus asks glancing up to him.

“Jazz and I are going to have Energon later,” he says, the Prime nods. Looking back down to the Decepticon, the mech’s Energon is completely gone. No one drinks medical grade that fast, well none except starved mechs. Optimus hands the last bit of his Energon to the Decepticon who gulps it down. He takes the Prime back to the desk for them to continue working. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

His frame must be over taxed if he fell into recharge with the mech who plans the deactivations of Decepticons. The Autobot could be planning his deactivation right now. Without the extra sensory input from his wings, it’s boring just sitting in the Prime’s office. He can’t understand how Optimus doesn’t fall into recharge when reading all the reports. 

He’d much rather look at the stuff on the shelves. Like the one right beside him. He scoots over to look at the contents. Crystal figurines fill the edge of the shelf in front of the data-pads. The data-pads are novels that they’ve both read back on Cybertron. The crystal figurines hum with his armor. These were made from his crystal tree. 

When Bumblebee was younger, they traveled to Praxus where Orion learned how to shape crystals. Over the vorns, Optimus has gotten better and done more complex figurines. 

Prowl  
~~~~~~

Crystals humming tingle the sensors of his wings and he glances up to see the Decepticon at the shelves. The Decepticon picks up a crystal figurine and the hum intensifies. Normally the only crystals that hum are crystals from the same crystal plant. 

Glancing over to the Prime, Optimus doesn’t even notice the Decepticon with the figurines. 

On the topic of crystals, the Decepticon’s armor never looks less than perfect just like his own which is made from his crystal plant. To have the figurines interact with the Decepticon’s armor meant Optimus had to have had access to the plant used for the armor. The plant as well also has to still be alive or the Decepticon would have to make a new set of armor from a new plant. 

Cybertron is gone, there will be no more crystal plants. His own crystal plant is starting to die. He’ll have to ask Optimus how he keeps the plant healthy. Not just any mech can grow and tend to crystal plants. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~

Kliks go by and he’s halfway to the Prime’s desk. Hearing the Praxian move, he glances over to see the Warden leaving the office. Once the Autobot is gone, he glances to the Prime. Optimus meets his gaze before jerking his helm for him to come. 

He hops up and steps up to the Prime, climbing onto the Prime’s lap. Servos slide along the Prime’s jaw, claws tracing the Prime’s antennae. 

“How long do we have before the Warden comes back?” he asks kissing down the Prime’s nasal ridge. 

“Do you have a designation for all my Autobots?” Optimus asks watching him looking over his faceplates. “He’s gone for Energon with Jazz. Does Jazz have a special designation?”

“Torturer,” he smirks, leaning in to press his lipplates to the Prime’s.

“What about me?” Optimus asks against his lipplates. Glossae meeting, he tips the Prime’s helm back. 

“Prime or Librarian,” he smirks diving back in, glossa slipping into the Prime’s intake. Optimus’ servos hold his hips, digits running over and along his plating. 

“What about Bee?” 

“Scout,” he says, servos sliding down the Prime’s chestplates. Optimus starts pulling him onto the chair. He bites the Prime’s lipplate playfully, jumping away to jump up to sit on the desk. He pulls the Prime between his spread legs. Optimus slides his servos up his thighs, leaning down to kiss the inside. His spike panel slides open, Optimus’ optics brighten and he smirks at the Prime watching his spike pressurize. He knows Optimus loves his spike. He isn’t a spike mech and only uses it when Optimus begs him to. 

Blue digits run along his hip armor as the Prime leans up catching his lipplates. The blue digits trail towards his spike. He moans as Optimus’ servos wrap around the base. Optimus leans down, glossa trailing up his spike. Arching as Optimus takes him in his intake. 

Prowl  
~~~~~~

He meets Jazz in the rec room, the saboteur has a cube for him at their booth. Sitting across from the silver mech, Jazz looks over to him. 

“How was it?” Jazz asks sipping his medical grade. Taking a drink of his regular Energon, he looks up at Jazz. If anyone could figure out the Decepticon it would be Jazz. Jazz has a way with mechs, if he didn’t know better he might say Jazz was a telepath. 

“He mostly stayed in the corner in recharge,” he says. It went against everything he’d thought a Decepticon would do in the presence of two of the top Autobots. 

“Recharge? Ya sure he wasn’t playin’?” Jazz asks frown forming on the saboteur’s faceplates. 

“No, he fell over one time, I thought he deactivated,” he finishes his cube. “The most eventful thing was that Optimus let the Decepticon taste the Energon for seeker grade, then gave him the rest of his cube.”

“What, like bondmates do?” Jazz frowns, visor darkening. Does Jazz think that the Prime and the Decepticon are bonded? “You don’t think-can’t-Optimus would never do that.”

“Of course I don’t think that Jazz,” he frowns at his bondmate. Bonds are serious deals. Mechs just don’t go around bonding to random mechs. Even Decepticons thought bonds were weak. To be honest, what he’s seen of Snowfire on the battlefield is that he’s the complete opposite of Optimus. The mech seems as deranged as Shockwave. “Optimus does seem more relaxed around him than I thought he should be. The same for the Decepticon being relaxed around the Prime.”

“I need to spend a day with the mech to get to know what he plans to do,” Jazz says scooting out of his bench to sit beside him. “He obviously has some fascination with Optimus. We know he’s an assassin.”

“Who is his target though, if it was Optimus why didn’t he let Megatron deactivate him?” he frowns. Why save your target unless he wants to be the one to end the Prime’s spark. Could the Decepticon be just waiting for Optimus to get better?

“See ya later,” Jazz steals a quick kiss before heading back to work. The Decepticon was the reason Jazz has a broken arm and Bumblebee’s broken leg. Both could have been much worse off and if Barricade hadn’t been there, neither of them would be walking at the moment. Did the Decepticon plan that? Was this whole thing an elaborate plan to get close to the Prime? Was Megatron in on it too? What information Ratchet gave him about the Prime’s injuries show that Megatron didn’t carefully plan out any of his hits. They were to random even for his battle computer when he looked at the Prime’s frame. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

“Optimus,” he moans arching on the desk. Optimus moans into his hips. The Prime’s glossa presses against the underside of his spike. Petting the Prime’s helm as he rolls into the Prime’s suck. The ping at the door causes him to jump. “Someone’s at the door.”

He covers his mouth when overload hits and he goes slack on the desk. Optimus licks his transfluid up before pulling him to sit up. Glossae meet as Optimus pulls him on his lap. 

The ping comes more urgent and Optimus groans before he slips off the mech’s lap. He trails claws along the Prime’s audios. “We have all recharge cycle.”

“Megatron should have tried to deactivate me sooner for me to have you here,” Optimus smirks stealing one last kiss before he goes back to the corner. “You can read data-pads if you want.”

The door unlocks, the Warden steps in scanning the room. Optics finding Optimus first of course. The Warden had to make sure he didn’t deactivate the Prime. He scoots over to the data-pad shelf to look over the data-pads.

Prowl  
~~~~~~

When he’s allowed into the office, the Decepticon is in the corner and Optimus is online and well at his desk. Jazz would be better at reading the mech than he is. He sits at the Prime’s desk as the Decepticon moves to the data-pad shelf and takes a data-pad. The Decepticon isn’t acting like anything he expected the Decepticon assassin to act. 

For all he knew the Decepticon has an elaborate plan to take down the Autobots. His weapons and long range comms have been disabled. Other than hand to hand combat, there’s nothing much the Decepticon can do. That they know of. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~

He onlines with a ping to his comm from Optimus and looks over to the Prime. the Warden is gone and Optimus is looking tired. He walks over to the Prime and wheels him to the rec room which is empty. He gives the Prime the cubes before taking him back to the berthroom. He helps Optimus on the berth before climbing up to straddle the Prime. Lipplates connect briefly before he sees the Prime’s optics offline. Kissing down the mech’s neck, he lays his helm on the Prime’s chestplates to listen to the mech’s spark pulse. 

He runs his servo over his abdominal armor. He will need to tell the Prime eventually. Especially if he continues to get the steady flow of Energon. 

Prowl  
~~~~~

He walks into his quarters, Jazz lays on the couch listening to music and playing a game on the data-pad. The saboteur sits when he nears and lets him sit on the couch. The black helm rests on his lap as he picks up his data-pad novel. He pets the black helm slowly, Jazz begins purring. 

What do the Decepticon and the Prime do in the Prime’s quarters? Where does the Decepticon recharge? Surely Optimus doesn’t have the mech recharge on the floor. Would he stasis cuff the mech while he recharges so there’s not a chance the Decepticon would harm him? If he was still and Enforcer on Cybertron and they brought in the mech and said he was the head boss in the mob, he would laugh at the mechs and say they got it wrong. Have they got this mech wrong? 

Decepticons are ruthless mechs, they only think of themselves. They wouldn’t lower themselves to serve any mech, that’s what they’re fighting for.


	4. The Scout

Snowfire  
~~~~~~

He onlines before Optimus and sits on the edge of the berth. Servos rubbing over his abdominal armor, maybe he could play it off as recovering or something. Glancing back to the Prime, he frowns when the time Optimus went to his office last quartex comes and goes. A ping at the door doesn’t make the Prime online. If he didn’t hear the venting of the Prime’s frame, he might think the Prime deactivated. The ping comes again and Optimus still doesn’t online. 

The door unlocks and he hears the mech step in. he lies down, offlining his optics and appearing in recharge. 

“Carrier?” Bumblebee asks at the berthroom door, which is closed. “Can I come in?”

“Yes,” he sits on the berth, the yellow and black mech opens to door. He frowns at the cast along the scouts led and the crutch he uses. He did that to his creation. He harmed his creation. 

“Sire requested the day off yesterday, I’m supposed to be your chaperone,” Bumblebee says coming to sit on the edge of the berth. “What do you want to do?”

“What do Autobots do to keep from being bored?” he asks, Bumblebee shrugs. 

“Play games, I doubt you’d want to go to the rec room, I have some in my quarters. We could play in my quarters.”

“Okay, we can do that,” he smiles when Bumblebee stands after him. He walks over to Optimus’ side of the berth. 

Bumblebee  
~~~~~~~~~

He glances back when he gets to the berthroom door to see Carrier lean over to kiss Sire. He loves that creators still love each other so much. Carrier follows close behind as he leads the white mech to his quarters. He opens the door for carrier, then realizing he left his quarters messy. Carrier steps into the main room, he winces a bit at the view of data-pads littering the floor. Blankets and pillows are thrown on and around the couch. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

He steps into his creation’s quarters, smiling a little at his creation’s messy room. Bumblebee always had a hard time keeping his room cleaned. He steps to the couch and plops down, smirking at the scout. Those innocent blue optics flick to his red ones before the younger mech walks over and dives onto his lap. He chuckles as Bumblebee wraps his arms around him. 

“I missed you, Carrier,” Bumblebee says looking up to him. He presses a kiss to the scout’s helm. He’s missed being with his creations, missed being with Optimus, missed watching Optimus play with their sparklings. 

//Production halted: insufficient fuel source. Insufficient materials. Resources redirected.//

//Repair halted: insufficient fuel source. Insufficient materials. Resources redirected.//

//Energon production initializing: Energon reserves filling. Status 0%. Estimated fill time: 4 kliks.//

“Hey, why don’t we play your favorite game these orns,” he smiles down at his youngling. Bumblebee nods and goes into the other room, a small partition in the room across from the door and he suspets a hallway leading to the berthroom with two other rooms between. 

Bumblebee returns with a Cybertronian box, one he remembers all too well. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Orion, you’re going to make me drop the box,” he says as the mech trails kisses down his wings, glossa finding all the sensitive seams. Blue servos slide around his hips. Those lipplates find his neck cables. He’s pulled back, aft resting against a burning panel. The sounds of little pedes come and the panel cools slightly. The red, yellow and black sparkling rounds the corner, the buzzborg stuffed toy clutched in small black servos. 

“Is that for me, Carrier?” innocent blue optics flick from the box to him and to Orion. 

“I don’t know,” he smirks. “It’s for a sparkling who has been good all vorn and who has a creation orn this orn. Do you know that sparkling?”

“It’s me!” the sparkling jumps, giggling. He kneels down and the sparkling comes closer. 

“This is a very complex game with a lot of pieces, you better not lose them,” he says holding out the box. “You better let Sire hold Bumblebee for you, little Ember.”

Fire Ember glances to the buzzborg then to the box and hands off Bumblebee to Orion. Small servos grasp the box and Fire Ember walks to the main room of the apartment and plops down on the floor. 

“Read the instructions while Sire and I go in the other room,” he smiles to the sparkling nodding and trying to figure out how to open the box. He leads Orion into the berthroom. “Now I hear it’s someone else’s very special creation orn.”

He smirks at Orion’s engine revv, servos coming up to cup the blue helm. Lipplates barely brushing, he backs away causing a pout to come to the mech’s faceplates. His armor locks hiss and his armor falls to the floor. Orion’s optics travel down his frame. He sits on the berth, spike pressurizing. 

“Do you know this special mech? I would hate for this present to get cold,” he smirks, claws trailing up his spike, gathering some transfluid which he licks off his claws. Orion tackles him on the berth, lipplates crashing together. Somewhere between the doorway and the berth, the red and blue armor fell off the mech because cool protoform slides against his as Orion moves to straddle him. 

Servos touch every piece of his protoform, stilling over his raised abdomen. Orion leans away, valve clenching on his spike. 

“You’re sparked?” Orion asks, optics meeting his. He nods and Orion hugs him tightly. Orion moves to spike him, he moans as the mech holds his spike. Overload is fast approaching. 

“Carrier, I read all the instructions,” Fire Ember chirps from the doorway. Orion winces and buries his faceplates in the pillows. 

“Did you read the secret hidden instructions?” he asks leaning up on his elbows. Fire Ember chirps excitedly and runs out the room. Orion glares at him. “What? You were the last in the room, you should have closed the door.”

“I found them!” Fire Ember’s excited chirp comes. He pulls Orion’s helm down to kiss. Orion overloads, crying out into his neck cables. Orion moves to lie beside him. 

“Carrier can we play now?” Fire Ember asks holding the box in the doorway. He nods and the sparkling runs over, putting the box on the berth and climbing up. Fire Ember plops down between them. Orion frowns at him before glancing to where the silver hip armor lies by the door. He snickers a little. 

“Okay, how do we play?” he asks sitting up to face the sparkling. Orion sits up a little too as Fire Ember hands out the figurines. They’re little planets and satellites.

“So you have to roll certain numbers and it has to match the planet and the orbit ring,” Fire Ember chirps away. “The first one to complete the system wins.”

Fire Ember didn’t finish the game, instead curled up to feed. He smiles at Bumblebee. 

“It’s still my favorite, Carrier,” Bumblebee smiles setting the game on the table. The little planets and little satellites sit in their containers when the lid folds down. 

They get halfway though playing Twilight Orbit when Bumblebee climbs onto his lap to cuddle up to him. 

//Energon production: Status 100%.//

He pets the yellow helm. Smiling a little, he knows what Bumblebee needs and what will heal the scouts leg faster than medical grade. Something that tastes a bit sweeter as well. His chestplates part and fold away, blue optics brighten when the scout sees his protoform. Optics traveling up they stop at the feeding tube near his spark, just to the left. Blue optics flick up to him, glossa running over lipplates, he nods down at the scout. 

He vents in when the scout latches on and begins to drink. Helm falling back against the couch as Bumblebee shifts into a more comfortable position. Now that he initialized the feeding tanks, they won’t shut off until after the parasite in him takes regular Energon. He begins rubbing the scout’s back. 

Bumblebee  
~~~~~~~~~~

He onlines his optics after spending a great deal of time wondering why he’s in a strange position on a mech’s lap. The view he’s met with his a feeding tube hanging from a blueish gray protoform. The pulse of the spark under his audio tries to lull him back to recharge. 

His leg doesn’t hurt at all. Carrier’s Energon has host nanites in it and helps heal wounds and strengthen weak parts of a frame. Snuggling up to Carrier’s frame, a purr starts in Carrier. He licks the tube for more Energon. The only time he gets Carrier’s Energon is if Carrier is carrying. He’s sure Sire and Carrier haven’t interfaced or spark merged because Sire is injured. Unless Sire isn’t the sire. 

“Optimus is the sire,” Carrier says pressing a kiss to his helm. “Your brother is just picky at what Energon he gets.”

“Was I ever picky?” he asks, he doesn’t remember much from inside but he does remember hearing Sire read to him and Carrier would talk to him. Carrier shakes his helm. “Can he hear us?”

“No, it’s too early in carrying, he hasn’t developed that much,” Carrier says. “His development keeps getting halted.”

“Why?” he frowns up at Carrier. Was Carrier not getting enough Energon? He should have offered to get Energon. Here he just used up some of the Energon Carrier needs. 

“Decepticons didn’t have the best Energon,” Carrier frowns. He jumps off Carrier’s lap and grabs the white servo. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you Energon,” he smiles, grabbing the crutch and pulling Carrier to the door.

“I can walk on my own,” Carrier laughs and he leads the way to the rec room. 

“There might be a few mechs in there right now,” he says as they near the room. He spots Prowl and Jazz at a booth and a few other younglings. He types in his code to get a medical grade cube, Carrier gets a cube as well. He sees seeker medical grade and frowns at Carrier’s missing wings. He leads Carrier to a booth before noticing Carrier’s is already empty. 

“Let me go get you another cube,” he says and goes to the dispenser.

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~

He frowns when Bumblebee takes off, he really didn’t need another cube. One is plenty, more than what he ever got in the Decepticons. Bumblebee’s cube has barely been touched and he pulls it over to steal a sip. 

“You can have mine too if you need it,” he glances up when Bumblebee sets the seeker grade on the table. The cube is gone within a pulse. The seeker grade is downed next. 

//Production resumed.//

//Repair resumed.//

//Energon production queued.//

His tanks finally feel full and he purrs, Bumblebee smiles a little. 

“Do you want another cube?” Bumblebee asks. Another cube wouldn’t hurt. It’s not like he can get overcharged on medical grade. He looks around to see the Warden and Torturer looking over at him. Frowning, he stands when Bumblebee returns. 

“I think I’ll go back to the Prime’s quarters,” he glances at the two officers. Bumblebee frowns but nods and hands him the cube. They reach the Prime’s quarters, he presses a kiss to the yellow helm. “Just comm me when you need to feed and cuddle.”

Bumblebee nods, hugging him and walking away. He downs the cube before he gets to the berthroom. Optimus is still in recharge on the berth causing him to frown. Optimus has never recharged this much. Sitting on the berth, he unlocks his back armor and lets it fall on the berth. 

He needs to tell Optimus about the parasite before he shows too much and the glitch aft begins to think there’s a different sire. Resting his servo on his abdomen, he can feel the armor sticking out with his full tank. Digits slide along his back, lipplates travel up his neck. 

“How was your day with Bumblebee?” Optimus asks in a whisper against his audio. 

“Good,” he vents in deeply as servos slide along his hips and rubs the inside of his thighs before rubbing his panel. Optimus catches his lipplates as the Prime presses harder on his panel. He moans, panel snapping open. Digits trail around the folds of his valve and he catches the Prime’s lipplates. His own claws find the blue antenna. A digit slips into him, followed by a second. He arches as the free servo of the Prime grips his thigh. 

Leaning back against the Prime, Optimus adds another digit. The other servo slides up to his abdominal armor as Optimus nips at his neck cables. The servo trails up his armor, splaying out over his abdomen. The Prime’s digits still, the nips still. He frowns at the wall when even the Prime’s venting stalls. 

Silence hangs in the air between them for pulses. Only the Prime’s exvent against his neck tells him Optimus is still there. Optimus is the first to break it, through shaky voice, “Perhaps the sire will want asylum.”

He frowns when Optimus’ servos retreat, his valve clenches painfully on air. He trembles when the Prime pulls away and leaves him sitting on the berth. 

“Who’s sparkling are you carrying?” he hears the hurt in the Prime’s voice and turns around to see Optimus frowning down at his servos. He glares at the Prime before smacking his shoulder. The Prime flinches. 

“it’s yours, glitch aft,” he growls, Optimus stares at him blankly. He knows Optimus is trying to figure it out. 

“How are you sparked?” Optimus continues to frown. “We merged six months ago, you . . . he should be bigger.”

“Hosts create sparklings weird. They never lose a sparkling. Production is just paused. And his production has been paused for six orns.”

“You have been sparked since our last . . .” Optimus grabs his collar and pulls him close, gaining a squeak from him. Lipplates crash together and the Prime’s servos are everywhere on his frame. The mech’s spike pressurizes under his aft and Optimus pulls him along it. He unlocks his chest and abdominal armor. Optimus tosses them off to the side as the Prime attacks his neck cables. Optimus parts just enough to lift him up to sink on his spike but in that time though, blue optics land on the feeding tubes and Energon filled pouches hanging down from his protoform. Energon pools against the seal of the tubes. 

The Prime’s fans kick on as Optimus kisses down to the feeding tube to the right of his spark. He moans as Optimus takes the tube in his intake, nasal ridge resting against the soft pouch. Gasping as the tip of the Prime’s spike enters him, he moans as the spike feels bigger than normal. The Prime’s glossa presses against the seal as more of that spike pushes into him. 

His frame heats as Optimus drinks the mineral and nanite rich Energon. He massages the Prime’s antenna causing the Prime to purr in his chestplates. When he’s fully seated on the Prime, Optimus shifts their positions, with him on his back and Optimus standing over him. 

Each thrust into him meets each lick of the tube. His frame tingles in overload as he holds the Prime’s helm to his chestplates. The spike shudders against the walls of his valve before warm transfluid fills every bit of his gestation chamber. Kisses trail up his chestplates before his lipplates are captured and Optimus overloads a second time with a cry. The Prime collapses on top of him. His comm pings with Bumblebee’s frequency. 

:Can I come recharge with you?: Bumblebee asks, sounding as if he had a bad recharge flux.

:Yes, bring a cube with you,: he says trying to scoot out from under the Prime. “Optimus.”

The Prime doesn’t online and he shakes the mech to get him online.

“Optimus, Bumblebee is coming,” he frowns as the Prime still doesn’t online. Optimus hated having their creations knowing they interface. He hated them coming into the berthroom when they were interfacing or any panel open, even cuddling. He only succeeds in scooting Optimus so the mech isn’t completely on his frame. 

The door pings and opens, Bumblebee walks in with two cubes in servo. The scout sets the cubes on the table and climbs on the berth. Yellow arms wrap around his frame and the scout nuzzles the feeding tube. He pets the scout’s helm as the youngling feeds. Recharge claims him before Bumblebee finishes. 

Bumblebee  
~~~~~~~~~

When he walks into the berthroom, he nearly drops the cubes when he sees creators on the berth. Carrier looks unhappy and Sire is out of it. Only when he was a sparkling did he ever see them like this. When his brother came, Sire told them to wait outside for a bit. When they could enter Carrier and Sire were always on either side of the berth. 

He quickly sets the cubes down and climbs on the berth. Sire’s frame takes up most of the room on Carrier’s frame but he squeezes in, wrapping his arms around Carrier. 

Carrier falls into recharge before he finishes. He glances up to see Carrier’s helm resting against Sire’s. They look cute together, he doesn’t know why Sire hates having them know and see Carrier and Sire love each other. When he was a sparkling, he loved feeling their fields after they interfaced. They were warm and full of love and security. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~

Something pins his arms to the berth, a nasal ridge presses against his before lipplates meet. A glossa slips into his intake as a servo rubs his abdomen. He moans into the Prime’s intake as the spike in him pressurizes and Optimus rolls his hips. He onlines his optics and tries moving his left arm but sees the yellow and black frame. He turns his helm to Optimus again. 

“Optimus,” he tries saying but the Prime cuts him off with a kiss. The Prime’s optics are offline. Optimus’ glossa runs against his as the Prime kneads his abdomen. The blue servo begins to slide to his left hip, where Bumblebee’s panel is pressed against his frame. Biting the Prime’s glossa, Optimus jerks back, blue optics flashing online. “We have a visitor.”

“Why didn’t you online me?” Optimus frowns pulling out of him and away. He snickers a bit when Optimus cups his spike as if Bumblebee was online and aware. 

“Your glitched aft is as heavy as a skyrise in Vos when you’re in recharge,” he smirks, servo groping the Prime’s aft. “It took all I had to get you off my abdomen.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Optimus sits up to rest the servo that was cupping his spike on his abdomen. 

“You’re heavy but not that heavy,” he says, Bumblebee tightens his hug. Optimus glances towards the cubes. Neither of them can reach them. “I need more Energon than a cube a quartex since I’m producing Energon.”

“We have no rations here,” Optimus says laying back down beside him. “Did Bumblebee see anything?”

“You were still buried deep inside me if that’s what you’re talking about,” he smirks at the Prime’s wide optics. “Besides it’s not the worst he’s seen.”

“But now he understands it instead of Sire showing Carrier a special kind of love only creators know,” Optimus frowns down at him. 

“He can also understand that we still very much love each other and that you’re a glitched aft for being so weird about it.”

“Sparklings aren’t supposed to know about interfacing,” Optimus leans down to kiss him. 

“But younglings are and they upgraded with me. I had to tell them about interfacing. You would have gave them a data-pad to read.”

“No I wouldn’t—“ Optimus starts but he’s pulling a data-pad out of their subspace with the label ‘All you need to know of interfacing’ by your Sire. Optimus stares at the data-pad. “Alright fine, I would have. I would have also talked about it.”

“oh, so you would talk about interfacing?” he smirks at the Prime’s glare. “What all would you talk about? Spike goes in valve—“

Optimus cups his helm, lipplates crashing together. He moans as the Prime’s glossa slips along his. When the Prime’s glossa retreats, Optimus slides his servo down his chestplates to his abdomen. 

“The Autobot’s pure, naïve, innocent, still sealed Prime talking about interfacing,” he snickers. “If they only knew.”

“They don’t think that,” Optimus frowns down at him. 

“The medic does, that is why he was so against you picking a ruthless Decepticon to be your nursemaid. A mech who would surely defile you, take advantage of a naïve, innocent spark.”

He cups the mech’s cheekplate guiding him down. Optimus’ optics flick up to Bumblebee and pulls away. He glances to the scout to see blue optics cycling online. Bumblebee stretches against him before sitting up. The Prime cups his spike again and he rolls his optics. 

Bumblebee  
~~~~~~~~~

“Hi Sire,” he glances over at the Prime who half sits up on the berth. .it’s been a long time since he recharged with creators. 

“Did you recharge well?” the Prime asks, he nods unable to look at the Prime or Carrier who lies on the berth nearly armorless. 

“Oh for the love of Unicron, you two are so much alike,” Carrier says making him jump. Carrier turns to Sire. “Optimus, Bee knows we interface. He knows how sparklings are made. Bumblebee, you were fine feeding before, you are my creation. I am happy to provide for you.”

“Right,” he says before getting up and telling himself to not run. How did he get to feeling so awkward around Sire?

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~

He smacks the Prime’s chestplates before shaking his helm. 

“What?” Optimus holds his chestplates mocking being hurt. 

“Your looming aft made him feel awkward,” he snorts, reaching for the cubes. “You’re his superior officer. He looks to you as a role model.”

He downs both cubes before the Prime leans closer guiding his helm closer. Optimus lies down, pulling him down with him. Clawed white servos trail down the red and blue frame. 

“You know,” he says trailing down a chest seam, “there are many Decepticons who have crushes on you. They see this big, powerful mech who can go pede to pede with Megatron. I bet most of your Autobots wish to crawl into your berth. To make you scream and cry their designation.”

“It is permanently occupied,” Optimus says wrapping his arms around him. Lipplates brush softly against one another, his servos slip to the Prime’s spike.


	5. The Armory

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

“Who’s mech sitting me this quartex?” he asks, helping the Prime off the berth and into the chair. He can tell Optimus is trying to not lean on him as much. “You don’t have to treat me like a lilieth bird. Leaning too much on me won’t harm the sparkling.”

“I need to be able to bear my own weight,” Optimus says plopping down on the chair with a tired exvent. “Ratchet has me doing physical therapy with Ironhide. He won’t let me lean on him.”

“You shouldn’t be leaning on anyone but me,” he says cupping the Prime’s helm and leaning down to kiss the Prime. Optimus catches his servo, pressing a kiss to his palm. He tips the Prime’s helm up to his feeding tube. Blue optics meet his as the Prime licks the seal. Blue servos come to his slightly raised abdomen. He pets the Prime’s helm as the mech licks up the Energon. When Optimus is done, he presses kisses to the feeding pouch. 

“After therapy, I am thinking of taking an oil bath,” Optimus pulls him down for a kiss. He wheels the Prime to the door. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he steals a quick kiss before the door opens. “The Decepticons never had oil for an oil bath.”

“We should get Energon first,” the Prime says. 

Ironhide  
~~~~~~~

He waits for the Prime and the Decepticon assassin. He doesn’t know why the Prime would let the Decepticon take care of him. There’s plenty of Autobots who would do anything for the Prime. He would do anything for the Prime. He has ever since being Optimus’ guard. 

The Prime is wheeled in, laughing and talking to the Decepticon. He sees the sparkle in the Prime’s optics that he always wanted focused on him. Why does the Decepticon get it? The Prime is stopped at the mat and the Decepticon moves to the corner of the room. He doesn’t miss the frown on the Prime’s faceplates. Optimus enjoyed the Decepticons company?

He walks to the Prime and helps the mech up, frowning when the Prime’s frame trembles the more the mech stands. He helps the Prime walk a bit but the mech falls to his knee. He notices the Decepticon shift a bit. 

Optimus’ engine growls at the failure and the Prime tries standing. White catches his optics and he sees the Decepticon beside the Prime helping him stand. The tremors in the Prime’s frame stop and the Prime seems to weigh less as he holds the mech up. He frowns, the Prime is leaning more on the Decepticon more than him. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

He saw the Prime straining moments before nearly crashing to the floor. Frag the Prime’s Hatchet rules, heh’s going to help his bonded and every other mech can shove their helms up their afts. 

The Armory is more focused on the Prime than him and he slips to the Prime’s side and helps his bonded up. Optimus thanks him over the bond. 

The Armory and he help the Prime take a few steps, he frowns at the Prime’s limp. Claws slip into the Prime’s hip joint, something snaps. The Prime jumps a bit, releasing a surprised cry. The Armory glares at him and he pulls the Prime to walk. No more limp. He smirks smugly at the Prime. the Armory continues to glare at him. The mech’s faceplates are going to get stuck that way. 

Ironhide  
~~~~~~~

He watches the Decepticon, the white servos, one holding the armor above the Prime’s aft and one servo resting against the Prime’s abdomen. 

Optimus is a mech who often rests a servo on a shoulder, arm or servo but Optimus always shies away from someone touching him. The Prime has shied away from his touch but he doesn’t see him shying away from the Decepticon. What could the Decepticon possibly offer that he couldn’t offer? 

:I’m coming to watch Optimus’ therapy,: his comm pings with Ratchet’s message. So far they’ve only made half a lap around the track and the Prime’s vents seem to be working overtime. The tremors are back now and the Prime seems to be resting more and more on the Decepticon. How much weight can the smaller mech hold?

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

They nearly make it a full lap around the track when Optimus trips and stumbles. He’s pulled down with the Prime but instead of falling on the mat, he falls on the hard concrete floor. Optimus’ bright blue optics meet his in fear, they glance to his abdomen. 

~I’m fine,~ he pulses just as the Medic rushes over to check on the Prime. The Medic and Armory help Optimus over to the chair. He sits on the floor, a pang in his spark makes him frown watching the mechs. The Medic asks Optimus questions and the Prime keeps telling him he’s fine, that falling on the mat wasn’t going to make his frame crumble. 

He hears Optimus say it was too much too soon and that he needs rest. Medic agrees but says next quartex he wants to check over his frame. 

Optimus waves him over, he glances at the Armory to see the scowl. The mech really should take care of his faceplates or he’s going to end up with a permanent Cyebatrol face. He wheels the Prime out of the training room towards the washracks. When they arrive though, Optimus points to the stall they were in the other quartex. 

“I thought you wanted an oil bath,” his spark falls, looking at the basin. He was looking forward to it. 

“First we need somewhere a little more private for what I have in processor,” Optimus says and he wheels the Prime in the stall. He squeaks when Optimus pulls him on the chair and turns them so his back catches the solvent rain. The Prime’s spike pressurizes between his spread legs and Optimus kisses his chest armor. His chest armor parts as his valve panel retracts. Digits slip into his wet valve as Optimus captures his lipplates. The other blue servo slides into his parted chestplates to grab the filling pouch. He moans, arching on the Prime’s frame as Optimus guides his hips to sit on the pulsing and slick spike. 

Optimus leans in, licking the tube for Energon. Rocking on the Prime’s spike, he holds the Prime’s helm to his chest. Strong blue servos grip his hips keeping him steady. 

Rubbing the Prime’s antenna, the Prime moans, servos rubbing up his sides before one slides to his abdomen. Optimus’ glossa runs along his lipplates and pushes in. Overload causes him to cry out in the Prime’s intake. He presses kisses along the Prime’s helm. 

“Now we can have our oil bath,” Optimus says and he shuts off the solvent. He wheels Optimus to the oil bath and helps the Prime down to the floor and into the oil. He sits on the edge, ejecting Anchyr and Aerodyne and Peirene and Artica. He slips in to recline against the Prime. Optimus reaches over cupping his faceplates and pulling him into kiss. He rests his helm on the Prime’s shoulder. The Prime wraps an arm around him; his other servo rubs over abdomen. 

Ironhide  
~~~~~~~~~

After the Prime’s therapy session, he follows Ratchet to the rec room for Energon. He frowns when he sits across the table from the medic. 

“What’s his relationship to the Decepticon?” he asks the medic. Ratchet glances up to him, blue optics tired. Was Ratchet recharging okay?

“I have no idea,” Ratchet sighs. “CNA tests come back negative for any relation that way. Optimus uses the familiar glyph tone for the mech. He didn’t seem too upset when he was called master in the med-bay. Red Alert saw on the rec room camera the Decepticon used the Prime code to get high grade four days ago and he used it in front of the Prime to get medical grade five days ago.”

“The con knows the Prime code?” he frowns. That code has access to everything on base. How could the Prime be so careless to give that out? The Decepticon could destroy the Autobots with that code. Why hasn’t he? “What’s his ulterior motive?” 

If they can’t figure it out fast, who knows what could happen. 

“Optimus is coming for a checkup tomorrow, I think the Decepticon should spend time with Jazz,” Ratchet says. “If anyone can get in the mech’s processor it’s him.”

“Optimus is too naïve to see a threat when it’s right in front of him,” he crosses his arms. If he learned anything over the vorns, Optimus is still that Archivist. “Wanna join me in the washracks later?”

“Your stall or mine?” Ratchet asks, he can tell the mech is tired and overworked. Optimus could have deactivated. It was his jobs to protect the Prime and he failed in doing that. 

“Mine.”

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

He holds the Prime’s helm as blue servos roam his back and sides, their glossae meet. The warm oil makes their frames even hotter as he grinds down on the Prime’s panel. Only a small portion of his processor scans the vid file feeds he receives from their lookouts. Anchyr and Aerodyne perch on the top of the doorframe into the washracks watching for anyone to come close. 

One of the Prime’s servos slip between his thighs to rub his panel. He moans into the Prime’s intake. A subsonic chirp from Aerodyne alerts him a mech is coming. He steals a kiss before slipping under the oil. Claws trail along the Prime’s submerged frame. He reaches the Prime’s panel and the moment his digits touch it, it retracts and the beautiful spike pressurizes in front of him. 

Ironhide  
~~~~~~

He steps into the washracks sure that no one is in there, that is, until he sees Optimus reclined in the oil bath, optics offline as if in recharge. The mech looks so peaceful in recharge. He wouldn’t mind onlining to that view every morning. 

Where does the Decepticon recharge? Surely Optimus doesn’t have him recharge in berth with him. What keeps the Decepticon from watching the Prime when he’s in recharge? He shudders at the thought of the assassin watching Optimus when he’s most vulnerable. Speaking of the Decepticon where is he? Is this why the mech wanted to come to the base? Did he convince the Prime to pick him to take care of the Prime so that when the Prime is in recharge he leaves to do Primus knows what?

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

His growl is muffled in the oil as Anchyr’s feed shows the Armory watching the Prime. Optimus’ unamusement flows over the bond from watching the same feed. 

A few pules later, the Armory finally walks into a stall. He surfaces, lipplates connecting with the Prime’s. 

“Long washer or short?” he whispers, Optimus onlines his optics to meet his. Their lipplates connect every so often. 

“Long, I think,” Optimus frowns a little. “Bumblebee and Sparkraid have been in here when Ironhide has and it was about a groon from Bee’s wash and ‘Raid’s wash.”

“Can you overload in fifteen breems?” he smirks, kissing the Prime before he can answer and sinks down on the Prime’s spike. Optimus’ moans are muffled by his intake. He claws slip into the Prime’s seams, charge dances from his digits to the Prime’s internals. He kisses down to the Prime’s neck cables, glossa slipping between them. The moan that escapes the Prime’s lipplates has him covering the Prime’s mouth. 

He glares down at the mech when the Pirme’s glossa runs along his palm. Optimus smirks up at him and he slams down on the Prime’s spike. Optimus cries out in overload and falls offline. The stall door unlocks and he dives into the oil bath to hide. Anchyr watches as the Armory walks closer to the Prime and kneels down to the edge of the tub.

He feels the Prime online and kisses down his abdomen. The Prime’s servo rubs the top of his helm, finding his audial horns, normally he has them hidden when his symbionts are docked so he’s not overloaded by sounds. After a few breems the Armory walks back to the stall. 

Surfacing with a smirk, Optimus cups his helm pulling him closer. Glossae barely meeting before Aerodynne’s chirp comes again and the feed shows the Medic nearing the washracks. 

“Just order all of your Autobots to the brig so we can play in peace,” he whispers diving back into the oil. The Medic stops a few pedes from the doorway to see Optimus in recharge in the oil. The Medic glances around the room obviously looking for him. Of course there are none of the Optics’ cameras in here for privacy reasons. He hears the static of a comm onlining. 

:Red Alert, do you know where the Decepticon is?: the Medic asks. 

:Last known location is the washracks with Optimus,: the Optics says, good to know they keep him under surveillance. :Optimus refuses to allow cameras in there. I can ping his comm if you think it’s a security risk.:

:No, that would alert him, just comm me when you spot him,: the Medic says. The comm disconnects and the Medic walks into the stall the Armory occupies. 

“The two mechs who so desperately want to frag you are fragging each other pretty frequently,” he whispers, surfacing and attacking the Prime’s neck cables. “Their fantasies will shatter when they learn a dangerous Decepticon seduced their naïve Prime.”

“And to think all these vorns I thought I had a common type frame,” Optimus smirks, servo finding his spike. Optimus’ optics brighten and he smirks at the Prime. 

“Don’t fall into recharge this time, Prime,” he pecks kisses along the Prime’s jaw as he slides his servos to the inside of the Prime’s thighs. Optimus moans as his claws trail along the valve folds. Claws widen the Prime’s valve causing Optimus to arch and clamp a servo over his intake. “What would your Autobots think of you if they learned their esteemed Prime liked being submissive to a Decepticon? Begged for it?”

Optimus glares at him growling, “Just frag me already.”

He snickers at the Prime, one good thig about having a small spike compared to Optimus’ valve is he doesn’t need to stretch the Prime. he plunges into the mech. Optimus optics white out, blue digits trembling. The free servo latches onto his shoulder as he thrusts hard into the Prime. Waves of oil splashes up on the floor, his claws dig into the Prime’s hips. 

The Prime clamps down on him. Overload overtakes them both and Optimus’ scream is so powerful not one but four servos don’t even come close to contain it. The clanking of frames in the stall quiets, the door unlocks and he’s in the oil hidden as Optimus offlines his optics, feigning recharge. 

Anchyr watches two helms pop out to survey the room. Both mechs look flustered and all optics focus on the Prime. The mechs stumble out of the stall after sharing a look and walk over to the Prime. The Medic reaches down to the Prime’s shoulder. The Prime’s frame shakes a bit and Optimus onlines his optics. Optimus frowns up at the mechs. 

“Are you alright?” the Medic asks. 

“Why would I not be?” Optimus glances back and forth, digits finding their way to his spike and the blue servo wraps around it. He snickers in the oil. 

“We thought we heard you scream,” the Armory says glancing around the room. 

“I have been in recharge since coming in here,” Optimus says, thumb rubbing over the tip of his spike, he moans in the oil. 

“Where’s the Decepticon?” the Armory asks, Optimus frowns at the mechs. 

“He’s probably in one of the stalls,” Optimus motions to the various stalls. The Armory glances around spotting the occupied one. The Armory stalks over to it and bangs on the door. 

“What the frag do you want? Leave me alone. Can’t a mech have some privacy in the washracks?” his voice comes from the stall. Optimus frowns in the direction while he laughs under the oil. The Medic frowns and glares at the Armory. 

“Sorry for disturbing your recharge, Optimus,” the Medic says and grabs the Armory’s shoulder. They return to the stall. He’s snickering so hard when Optimus pulls him out of the oil. His back against the Prime’s chest, he shakes both of their frames. 

“What just happened?” Optimus frowns a bit glancing to the stall. 

“A couple of tormenters seemed to want to have some fun toying with the Autobots,” he smiles finally getting his frame under control. 

“Peirene and Artica,” Optimus frowns, shaking his helm with a small smile. 

“Naughty Prime,” he smirks, reaching up to trail his claws along the Prime’s antenna. Optimus kisses his neck cables. 

“Use your spike more and that won’t happen,” Optimus strokes his spike causing him to arch off the Prime’s frame. 

“Oh, but I like your uncontrolled outbursts,” he smirks, pulling the Prime’s faceplates to his. Their lipplates lock as the Prime’s servo not currently holding his spike rubs his abdominal armor. 

He moans as the Prime strokes his spike and rubs his abdomen. His helm falls back on the Prime’s shoulder, forehelm resting against the other’s neck. He loves being wrapped in the Prime’s arms like this. The servo not attending to his spike slides down to his valve. 

The stall door unlocks and he dives into the oil, Optimus falls into mock recharge above the surface but under it, those blue servos find his valve and hip and he’s pulled onto the Prime’s spike. Anchyr watches the two mechs leave, he surfaces only to be pushed against the other side of the basin and Optimus’ lipplates, glossa, denta attacking his neck, shoulder and audial horn. Claws scrape along the floor as he grips the edge, he moans as the Prime’s spike rubs along the walls of his valve. He cries out as the Prime’s tip hits his ceiling node. Panting as Optimus rocks into his frame, he can’t wait until Optimus is back to full strength. 

Strong servos grip his hips, pulling him into the thrusts. He cries out in overload, Optimus’ builds slow but as he’s coming down from his, warm transfluid fills him and he sinks into the Prime’s arms. 

Picky parasite better not be complaining now. 

Peirene and Artica come out of the stall, running on all fours. The sight probably looks terrifying given their xenomorph and neomorph alt-mode appearance, at least to humans. He thinks they look cute. Optimus lets him go for them to dock. Anchyr and Aerodyne soar down to dock and Optimus pulls himself up to sit on the edge. The oil drips from the red and blue frame, making puddles on the floor that eventually run back into the oil. 

Oil on his own frame gets absorbed, warming every piece of his frame. Host mechs take in everything and use everything. After a few pulses all the oil is gone from the Prime’s frame, he helps Optimus into the chair. 

“You will have to tell me when you can no longer help me, when my weight becomes too much,” Optimus glances to his abdomen. 

“It won’t harm him, he’ll just fuss and throw a tantrum and I’ll tell him to just remember when he separates he’ll learn what a tormenter I can be,” he smirks and wheels the Prime to the door. 

“So that’s where Peirene and Artica learned it from,” Optimus chuckles. “The rec room should be empty, no one will notice if we get a stash of cubes for you.”

The rec room is completely empty and Optimus selects a cube for himself before letting him choose how many cubes he wants. Optimus no doubt will want his Energon when they get back to the quarters. He drinks one cube while he waits for the others to fill, after it all Optimus holds four seeker medical grade, one medical grade and one high grade. 

Ironhide  
~~~~~~~

Optimus must really have been tired. Could the therapy have been too much for him? To stay in recharge for that long, an oil bath is relaxing but a mech shouldn’t fall into recharge in one. He could have sworn that scream was Optimus’, though he doesn’t know why the Prime would scream in an oil bath. He was hoping the Decepticon wasn’t in that stall, hoping to Primus that Optimus saw that the mech couldn’t be trusted and that he was a danger to them all. 

He feels bad interfacing in such a public spot, so close to the Prime. He’s never known the Prime to be close to anyone like that. There was one mech, a secretary back on Cybertron that Optimus seemed to like, Soundflare but the mech was sparked and he wrote it off as Optimus being nice. Optimus isn’t that kind of mech who would take a mech to berth one recharge cycle and then be done, no, the Prime would have a long term relationship. For the longest time while he was in the Guard, he never initiated a relationship because he feared making the mech a target, perhaps the Prime feels the same with any mech he wants. 

Ratchet’s always there for the Prime, after battles, asking if he’s alright. Ratchet gets to see Optimus when he’s most vulnerable. Like this last battle, Optimus never seemed more broken. When he picked up the Prime’s frame, it felt like they were about to lose the Prime even though repairs had been made to his frame. He felt cold and limp. His plating was graying. He could feel the Prime’s spark pulse. He doesn’t believe the Decepticon repaired the Prime’s frame, how could he? The assassin is the very mech he was supposed to protect the Prime from. To have the assassin reach the Prime and he not even be aware of it makes him feel like a failure. What if they had been back on Cybertron? Would the Prime have been assassinated and without an heir? Only Primes sired Primes. No Prime is ever a carrier. Sentinel Prime was a mech known to frequent entertainment clubs and hook up with mechs, some he sired creations with, others were lucky enough to not be stalked by the guard to see if their one time union produced a possible heir. 

Orion Pax’s carrier, whoever the mech is, fell off their radar. The Matrix led them to the Archives where they found a fully adult mech who’s spark resonated perfectly with it. Normally a trusted guard would visit the mech’s home when there was a sitter, incapacitate the sitter and see if the Matrix responded to the sparkling. There was a close call with one of the sparklings but sadly the sparkling perished in a building collapse. Orion was Primus sent to have been in Iacon all the time, at least that’s what the records showed. He owned an apartment off the shores of the Sea of Light for the most part of his adult function. 

When Optimus became Prime, though, he refused any medical examinations or answer any personal questions pre-primacy. He got the impression of a very private mech, who preferred to have not been chosen to be Prime. he seemed uninterested in anything to do with the history of the Primes. 

Ratchet was Orion’s medic, he didn’t have any information on the Prime any more than the Prime had been willing to give the Guard. When the questions arose about possible enemies, Prime simply said, “Any enemies I had or will have will not reach me.” He took that meaning the Prime had the upmost respect and belief in the Guard but now with the Decepticon, he’s not so sure. It’s not uncommon for Cybertronians to have “abilities”, mostly the mechs related to seekers have a strong affinity to some kind of extra sense. Could Orion’s carrier have been a seeker, Sentinel wasn’t too attracted to seekers, claimed their wings were in the way. 

Praxians are distant relations to seekers and Optimus has a skill in creating crystal figurines like a Praxian. Not many Praxians survived the bombings though. He’s caught Optimus watching the wings of the Praxians on occasion; making him believe the Prime knows wing cant. It’s a difficult language to learn, he’s only ever been trained on aggressive posture, even Jazz seems to know less than Prime and Jazz is bonded to a Praxian. Optimus seems to like the Praxian like younglings, Bumblebee, Soundtrack, Rainflare, Torment, Virtue and Bluestreak. He’s caught the Prime rubbing their wings to get them into recharge. If he had thought the Prime went around to berths, he’d think they were his creations, but all the younglings just showed up one orn, frames dented from the war. Optimus seems to have a way with younglings, at times he has to remind himself the Prime is an adult and not a youngling. 

He frowns as he feels Ratchet shift on the berth behind him. Turning over, he sees Ratchet sitting up on the edge of the berth. He can feel the tension in the medic’s field, Ratchet doesn’t hide his field from him like Optimus normally does when a mech suddenly gets close to him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly to not startle the mech. Ratchet turns to look at him. He rubs the mech’s back when he scoots over to sit more on the berth and beside him. 

“Red Alert just spotted the Decepticon coming out of the washracks with Optimus and they went to the rec room,” Ratchet frowns, so far nothing too alarming. Optimus probably needs Energon from the way his frame was acting at therapy. “He said they got six cubes of Energon.”

“Six cubes?” he frowns, Optimus wouldn’t need that many cubes for just this day. “Who would need that many cubes for recharge cycle?”

“Apparently the Decepticon, he’s the one who picked them out,” Ratchet says taking the data-pad from the table. He sees over the medic’s shoulder that it’s the Decepticon’s file. “I noted his repair system was lagging from the lack of materials.”

“Just because he destroyed his own wings?” he asks. Why would anyone help the enemy with your own vital systems. 

“I don’t think the Decepticons are getting the necessary Energon, it was a built up over many weeks,” Ratchet says logging how many cubes he’s received word the Decepticon drinking. It’s more than any of them has a day. There’s no question now that the Decepticon was starved. A mech can’t just drink that many if he had regular Energon. Did the mech’s story actually add up, he’s just over here for the Energon like Ratchet said he told the Prime? Could they convince other Decepticons to defect and finally win the war?

Ratchet sets the data-pad down, leaning against him. He hums as he presses kisses along the medic’s helm and shoulder. They’d been together for a few vorns now. After his failed attempt to flirt with Optimus, he had found out Ratchet was also pinning for the Prime just to be ignored. They have never talked about bonding, the bond shatter would cost the mech they love two top officers. He’s content enough to just have these moments like this. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~~

They enter the berthroom, Optimus hands him the cubes and he nearly has them all downed by the time Optimus gets to the standard medical grade. Just as he suspects, Optimus hands it to him and he downs that. 

“Where do you store all that?” Optimus looks over him; he shrugs and helps the Prime onto the berth. His abdominal armor sticks out a bit, any mech could tell he’s carrying and Optimus’ digits slip over the armor. Lipplates catch his and he’s pulled onto the berth to straddle the Prime. Optimus tugs on his armor, he lets his chestplates, back plates and abdominal armor unlock. The Prime drops them to the floor, servos sliding over his bluish protoform. Digits brush along the Energon tubes their creations have used over the vorns. 

Instead of touching the tube, Optimus uses, the Prime’s servos slide back down to his hip armor. A gentle tug has him unlocking it, and the Prime drops the armor that bare his interface equipment and aft with the others. His spike hangs limply against his protoform, a downside to carrying. Carrier’s spikes are last to become aroused. For once Optimus doesn’t even pay any mind to it. Optimus does however pull him to straddle his faceplates. He moans as the Prime’s glossa runs along his valve folds before slipping in to tease the rim of his valve. Servos grip his thighs and he arches against the wall at the helm of the berth as the Prime’s glossa presses against his valve entrance. 

One blue servo slides up his thigh over his hip to splay out over his protruding abdomen. He moans, servo going to rub over the Prime’s. Panting as the glossa runs along sensors along his walls, he offlines his optics. Optimus moans under him causing his fans to kick on. The Prime’s lipplates press against his rim and the Prime sucks. He cries out in overload, servos clenching the Prime’s tightly, missing the ping to his comm. he nearly falls from his perch and Optimus pulls him down to sit on his hips. 

Locks his unlock and Optimus leans up to remove his own chestplates, backplates, abdominal and pelvic armor. He straddles the Prime’s hips, claws slipping under the armor to remove it. Unlike his spike, Optimus’ is pressurized proudly under him when the armor is removed. Transfluid leaks out of it, dripping onto the Prime’s protoform. 

Optimus pulls him down, seating him fully on his spike and leans up to lick the Energon tube. He caresses the Prime’s helm, claws running lightly over the antennae. His digits slide down along the Prime’s protoformed chest. The blue of the Prime’s spark shines through the seams of his protoform. The ping to his comm makes his servos still but Optimus continues feeding and rolling his hips. 

:Can I come recharge with you?: Bumblebee asks. 

:Your Sire and I are fragging right now, but you can,: he says, he doesn’t mind their creations knowing they still very much love one another. :Bring some cubes.:

He grunts when Optimus thrusts up sharply, blue servos coming to his sides, thumbs just under the lower pouches. In all their forty one vorn, Optimus has only ever touched “his” pouch when they were heavy with Energon. 

Ironhide  
~~~~~~~

He steps out of Ratchet’s quarters to return to his. He spots Bumblebee in the officer wing precariously holding four cubes of medical grade and trying to use the crutch. 

“Need help Bee?” he asks, the scout nearly drops the cubes as he jumps. 

“N-no, I’m good,” Bumblebee glances away and starts to walk faster. He watches the scout turn the corner. He’s never known the young mech to have a mate let alone an officer for a mate. 

:Hey Red, where is Bumblebee going?: he calls the Security Director. A few pulses later, he receives a reply. 

:It’s the second recharge cycle in a row he’s gone to the Prime’s quarters,: Red Alert says. :It’s also strange that Bumblebee used the Decepticon’s code to get those cubes. He just used the Decepticon’s code to enter the quarters.:

If Optimus was in trouble, he’d comm them, right? Not just Bumblebee, unless Optimus and Bumblebee are together but why would Bee use the Decepticon’s code? Could Bumblebee and the Decepticon be mates? How could Optimus allow Bumblebee to be with a Decepticon?

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~

He hears the door open and Bumblebee’s pede falls, the berthroom door was left open. He spies the scout’s yellow helm as Optimus pins him to the berth, kissing and sucking on one of his Energon lines in his neck. If only Optimus knew he had his bare aft pointed towards their youngling. Bumblebee stops short of the berthroom doorway staring at them. He moans as Optimus thrusts in him, feeding pouches moving with every thrust. 

Blue optics go wide and bright at the sight causing him to smirk at the scout. He glances to the table to set the Energon cubes there before Optimus catches his lipplates. He turns the Prime’s helm away from where Bumblebee walks, claws finding both antenna to pinch. Optimus cries out in overload as Bumblebee sets the cubes down, he arches into the Prime’s frame. Optimus kisses his jaw as he pulls out. Optics flick over the bertside table, Optimus jumps away from his frame, servo cupping his spike. He can’t help but laugh at the feline behavior. Optimus slaps his shoulder before realizing he uncovered his spike to do so.

“Oh, come on, Bee’s seen your spike before,” he snickers and opens his arms for the scout. Bumblebee climbs on the berth to snuggle up to him. He smirks, grabbing the Prime’s servo, the very one covering the still leaking spike and pulls it up to his feeding pouch. Bumblebee is already latched on to his. 

“Snowfire,” Optimus growls out, hips squirming a bit as his spike is still halfway pressurized. 

:Stop being a sparkling,: he growls making the Prime’s digits flex over the pouch. :You need this as much as he does, get me those cubes and I’ll let you play with my spike.:

Optimus glances down to his slowly pressurizing spike. He notices the Prime’s pressurizes instantly at the sight and smirks. He always wins. 

The Prime reaches over his frame, straddling it and trying to not touch their creation’s frame. Optimus’ knee brushes Bumblebee’s leg and Optimus glances down to the young mech. Bumblebee continues to feed, servos kneading hi blue-silver protoform. 

Their spikes brush together causing him to gasp and the Prime to shudder as the blue servo grabs the cubes. 

“Bee, I gotta move up a bit,” he says rubbing the youngling’s helm. He scoots up and Bumblebee crawls up after him. He wraps his arms around the youngling’s frame as Optimus spreads his legs to settle between them. Strong servos rub up his thighs causing him to moan and lubricant to drip from his valve. 

Wincing a bit at the angle his spinal strut is in, Optimus shifts a bit, that spike sliding along his valve lips as the Prime reaches for his pillow. He moans, grinding down into the spike as Optimus slides the pillow under him. That red, blue and silver spike lines up to his valve and slowly presses in making him arch and moan. His optics shutter off as the Prime’s spike fills him completely. The Prime’s attention focused solely on his blue, white and black spike. 

Bumblebee’s servos slowly stop kneading and the young mech falls into recharge as he finishes the fourth cube the scout brought. He runs his claws over the peaceful scout’s helm, moaning quietly as Optimus plays with his spike. 

His comm pings with Sparkraid’s frequency and he answers it. 

:Carrier, can . . . can I come recharge with you?: Sparkraid asks. :Surefire is on a mission and I can’t recharge when he’s away. Bumblebee said . . . said you had Energon?:

:Bring a cube of Energon with you,: he says. :Bumblebee is in recharge already.:

:Sire?:

:Playing with my spike, just come in quietly,: he smirks down at the Prime whose sole focus is on his spike. He gives Sparkraid his code for Energon and to get in the quarters. 

A few pulses later the door opens, Optimus lays beside him, both their spikes in his blue servo. The Prime licks the tube, Sparkraid steps into the berthroom as he holds the Primes helm to the pouch when Sparkraid sets the cubes on the table. Sparkraid scoots between Bumblebee’s frame and his frame to the feeding tube below Bumblebee’s. he rubs Sparkraid’s helm. It’s a good thing Optimus has a large berth. 

Sparkraid falls into recharge by the time Optimus is done feeding, the Prime cups his helm, lipplates meeting. He feels the Prime’s EM Field fill with surprise and guilt when blue optics fall on Sparkraid. 

The Prime frowns down at him, the most unamused look he’s ever seen. “Tell me when our creations are coming.”

“Why so you can leave me needy?” he smirks pulling Optimus’ helm down to his. “You’re the only one who thinks it’s awkward.”

“I don’t want to know or see my creators interfacing,” Optimus frowns. 

“They both have their own mates who they frag, who they exper—“ Optimus cuts him off with a kiss.

“I don’t want to know, Snow,” Optimus says glancing to their creations. Both have released his frame and he sits up on the berth more. Grabbing the two cubes of Energon, he downs them before lying beside Optimus. Claws trail over the Prime’s arms and down his chest. 

Optimus pulls him close, arms securely around him. Glancing up, the Prime is already in recharge. He smiles a little, pressing a kiss to the Prime’s protoformed chest. He rubs his abdomen before falling into recharge against the Prime’s frame.


	6. The Torturer

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~

He onlines to limbs splayed over his frame, a glance down shows a tangle of red and blue, black and yellow and red and white over his blue silver protoform. Bumblebee’s helm is against his neck, Sparkraid’s is poking him in his side and Optimus’ is resting against his. He’s not getting up anytime soon. Sparkraid shifts on the berth and onlines. Deep blue optics meet his red ones and Sparkraid detangles himself from Bumblebee’s hold. Bumblebee immediately latches onto him. 

He smiles a little, Bumblebee always loved cuddling. It didn’t matter who it was or how many, he found a way to cuddle every frame that was in the recharge pile. 

:Surefire is back,: Sparkraid says glancing over to Optimus. :I like seeing Sire relaxed again. Before he got injured, something was really stressing him. I’m glad you’re here, Carrier.:

Sparkraid hugs his waist, the only thing he can get to as Bumblebee nearly lays over him. The red and white youngling looks to his abdomen before glancing up. 

:How long until we have a new baby brother?: Sparkraid asks, servo resting on his abdomen.

:At least nine more orns, if I can get enough Energon for the picky sparkling,: he says as Bumblebee begins rooting around in his recharge. He moves Bumblebee to the feeding tube as Sparkraid leaves. Bumblebee climbs all the way up on his frame, kneeing his spike then pinning Optimus’ to the berth as he latches onto the feeding tube. 

Optimus onlines kissing his jawline, servos sliding over his side but runs into Bumblebee’s frame. Optimus onlines his optics with a frown at Bumblebee sprawled out. 

“He never liked sharing,” he smirks, tipping the Prime’s helm up to kiss. “How long before we have to get up?”

“Ratchet scheduled a checkup for me in an hour, a klik,” Optimus says, digit sliding along his jaw to his hidden audial horn. “You are apparently spending the day with Jazz.”

“Lucky me,” he rolls his optics, Optimus chuckles and kisses him. Bumblebee stretches out over his frame before onlining. 

“You should be getting to your shift,” Optimus says nudging Bumblebee off his frame. Bumblebee pouts but slips off his frame and leaves with a pout. He smacks the Prime’s shoulder lightly. “What? I want my bonded before my checkup.”

He smirks as Optimus pulls him over his frame to straddle the needy spike. He leans down, barely touching lipplates. “So needy.”

Optimus bites at his lipplates, pulling him down on his spike. The Prime kisses down his neck and to his chest, glossa finding the feeding tube. Optimus caresses the other feeding pouch, Bumblebee’s, causing him to moan and it to refill with Energon. The Prime has only ever touched the one he claimed when he first learned Energon was produced. 

“What are your Energon levels?” Optimus asks once the pouch is depleted.

“Seventy percent,” he replies and Optimus leans into Bumblebee’s claimed feeding tube, the pouch is only half filled. Those blue servos move to his second row of feeding pouches, massaging them and making them fill with Energon. He overloads watching the Prime feed, slumping into the Prime’s frame. He’s laid on the berth as Optimus makes his way through the four rows, eight feeding tubes in total. Sucking the last dry, the Prime grasps his claimed one, massaging and making it fill again. 

The lower ones were supposed to be lower quality but with enough Energon there’s no difference. Each of their creations has claimed a tube. The tubes only become pronounced once a host creates a symbiont. Their bonding cycle, Orion never even noticed them, only when Anchyr and Aerodyne were about to emerge did the feeding pouches swell and fill and the tubes emerge. When he’s not producing, the tubes retract into the pouches but are still visible, it’s one of the reasons he won’t take off his armor in front of anyone else. 

Femmes are known for feeding pouches and had been “milked” early on in the war for additives for wounded soldiers. Thank Unicron he was never injured enough or sparked to need Energon through that phase. Still if a medic found out, he’s sure he’d face the pressure to be “milked” for the Autobots wellbeing. It’s not commonly known host mechs have pouches as it is with femmes, nor is it common knowledge that seekers have pouches. He knows because Starscream offered to be his Energon incubare, a wet nurse as humans call it. Of course Carrier’s Energon was always sweeter. 

Optimus takes his spike in his intake causing him to arch off the berth. The Prime flinches and frowns at him, the look of an interrupting comm. his legs are gathered up and he’s pulled back on that spike. He’s crying out as Optimus pounds into him, the burst of strength no doubt ably coming from the Energon the Prime just gorged himself on. Warm transfluid fills him as Optimus bites his neck cables. 

“Ratchet wants me to come early,” Optimus steals a kiss before sitting on the edge of the berth. He sighs before crawling to the edge and going to gather their armor. He turns around with it to see Optimus’ optics flick up from where his aft was and snickers when Optimus’ optics widen. 

“Like the view?” he laughs when Optimus meets his optics. He loves how Optimus is still so innocent sometimes. Dumping their armor on the berth, he steps up between the Prime’s legs wrapping his arms around the mech’s neck. Optimus’ servo finds his hips and he slides his claws down the Prime’s arm to the servo and slides it to his aft. He captures the Prime’s lipplates, glossa finding the other’s when the Prime squeezes his aft. 

His servo slides between their frames, stoking his spike to coat it. The Prime cries out in his intake as he pushes in. He parts away a bit, pulling the Prime’s helm down to the refilled pouch and tube. Optimus latches on as he thrusts into the mech. his claws slide along the Prime’s antenna, finding the wire that connects his comm, he unplugs it. 

He overloads into the Prime at the small nip Optimus gives the feeding tube. Kneeling down in front of the Prime, Optimus’ optics widen as he licks the length of the red, blue and silver spike. His comm pings with the Medic’s frequency as he sucks the tip of his bonded’s spike. 

:What do you want Medic?: he sends as he takes the whole spike in his intake. Optimus moans, grabbing the berth padding to not jerk his hips. 

:He’s recharging,: Optimus cries out in overload above him and he drinks all the transfluid. :Want me to make him online?:

:No, just make sure he’s in the med-bay in a half hour,: the Medic says. 

“Snow, you disabled my comms,” Optimus frowns down at him. 

“How else will I get your undivided attention?” he smirks and steals a kiss before jumping away. His armor snaps on and he helps Optimus put on his armor. Pulling the chair over to the berth, he helps Optimus in it noticing the lack of tremors in the mech’s frame. 

“Energon levels?”

“Fifty two percent,” he says. “Production is halted under fifty percent. Repairs will also be halted then since I’m producing Energon.”

“Let’s go to the rec room before the med-bay,” Optimus glances up to him, kissing his servo. The rec room is nearly empty, only one mech sits in the room with a medical grade Energon cube. The silver and black mech, the Torturer, his mech sitter this quartex has one of his arms in a sling. 

He can feel the Torturer’s gaze on them. Optimus gets his medical grade but also a high grade and another medical grade. The silver mech makes a noise and he selects three seeker medical grades. One he downs along with the high grade. He meets the Torturer’s visor and hands the remaining cubes to the Prime. Optimus glances up to him before glancing to the Torturer. He wheels the Prime to the med-bay doors just short of making them open automatically to drink the cubes. Optimus’ medical grade is only half drunk and gets handed off to him. 

The medical bay doors open when he wheels the Prime to the doorway, the Medic is already working on Bumblebee. The cast the scout had on sits on the berth and the Medic is moving the scout’s leg back and forth. There’s deep scars running along the mech’s thigh and knee. He did that. He harmed his creation. He caused Bumblebee pain. How could the youngling still love him? Slowly he meets Bumblebee’s optics, they’re bright blue as ever.

:I’m okay, Carrier, it doesn’t hurt,: Bumblebee says. :It was a lot worse twelve days ago.:

“I’m impressed by your healing time, Bumblebee,” the Medic says. :Any other time you’d still be recovering two to three months from now. Whatever you are doing ,it’s progressing your healing. If it keeps up you’ll be able to walk without the cast and crutch in a week.”

The Medic puts the cast back on Bumblebee and the scout hops off the berth. The Medic points to the now vacant berth. He helps the Prime stand and climb on the berth, all the while the Medic watching him. 

“Jazz will be here to pick you up,” the Medic says 

“I can escort Snowfire to Jazz,” Bumblebee says at the doorway. He glances to the Prime who nods. He follows Bumblebee down the hall, instead of going to the rec room though, Bumblebee pulls him into a storage closet. He unlocks the chestplates, Bumblebee kneads his pouch before feeding from it. Picking up the youngling to sit on his hips, Bumblebee hugs him tightly. 

“You can use more pouches if you want,” he rubs the youngling’s helm. Bumblebee purrs into the tube.

Jazz  
~~~~

He doesn’t buy that the Decepticon “saved” their Prime. Not out of the goodness of his spark. Decepticons only care about one thing, and that is themselves. Whatever reason the Decepticon saved the Prime for is to better himself. From the looks of it the Decepticon is already bettering himself from it. Red said he has had more Energon than any normal mech should have. 

Prime seems either oblivious or very trusting of the mech to give the Decepticon the ability to roam their base. Sure they have the Decepticon under surveillance when he’s out and they would obviously detain the mech before anything was sabotaged or destroyed. All his outgoing comms are disabled, any frame powered weapons disabled, they didn’t find any weapons on him in the scan of his frame. If the mech wanted a fight, he’d have to rely solely on hand to hand. Even Prowl, who trained under one of the best martial artists on Cybertron isn’t reliant solely on hand to hand. 

Prowl fought dirty before he joined the Autobots, still does when the situation calls for it. If the Decepticon started a fight, Prowl would be their best bet. The former Enforcer knows the tactics Decepticons use, knows their fight styles. Knows how they think. When Prowl joined the Autobots, it was the best thing that could happen.

He frowns, Ratchet said Bumblebee was supposed to be here with the Decepticon. It shouldn’t take an hour to walk from the med-bay to the rec room. He peeks out of the room. Did the Decepticon harm Bumblebee? The youngling is too trusting, just like the Prime. The hallway is empty, no signs of struggle. Starting to walk to the med-bay, he hears a door open and sees Bumblebee step out of a storage closet followed by the Decepticon. Did the mech harm Bumblebee?

Bumblebee hugs the Decepticon who, to him, surprisingly hugs back and presses a kiss to the youngling’s forehelm. The scout begins to turn but the red optics meet his visor and the Decepticon frowns grabbing Bumblebee’s arm and nods towards him. Bumblebee’s optics are bright when he glances his way. The Decepticon’s attention turns to Bumblebee when the scout speaks to him. 

He finds it strange that Bumblebee doesn’t seem afraid of the assassin, especially since the assassin was the one who broke the scout’s leg. Bumblebee starts walking towards him, the Decepticon follows close behind. 

“Jazz, it’s not—“

“What it looks like?” he says glancing over their frames, Bumblebee’s doesn’t show any signs of interfacing, the Decepticon’s . . . the Decepticon’s abdominal armor sticks out a bit more than normal. Either the Decepticon is overweight or he’s sparked. He’s leaning more to the sparked because the mech doesn’t normally look like this, especially two days ago. But what kind of Decepticon would get himself sparked up? According to Prowl when he arrived and was asked about sparklings and younglings, Prowl said Decepticons believed them to be weak and a nuisance. “Ah can take over watchin’ the mech.”

Bumblebee glances to the Decepticon before leaving. Red optics turn on him. The mech is creepily silent. Could he be related to Soundwave? He laughs internally, that’d be the day when they learn Soundwave, third in command of the Decepticons, the back bone of the Decepticons sparked up some mech or had himself sparked up and actually cared enough for the dependent spark to raise it. 

“Need any Energon?” he asks glancing back to the Decepticon. The white mech frowns at him, optics tight. Of course the mech doesn’t believe him. Who would? According to Prowl, the Decepticons call him Torturer, he smirked at the name when Prowl told him they view him as the Decepticon in Autobot colors. He’s used to getting information from mechs and other beings, in the war, he can apply physical harm to do so. “Ya took quite a bit of Energon earlier, we ain’t got rations here.”

The Decepticon doesn’t answer so he shrugs and walks by the rec room. He feels the Decepticon hesitate by the doorway before following him. Turning to the Decepticon, he gets a glimpse of down cast optics, downcast shoulders. The mech looks like a prisoner of war. Red optics snap up to his visor seconds later though, he shakes his helm, sighing and heading back to the rec room. 

A dead mech isn’t fun to get information out of. If the Prime hadn’t claimed him as his caretaker, they’d be in the brig and he’d already be knuckle deep in the white plating wringing out information. 

“Get whatever Energon ya want,” he says leaning on the doorway. The Decepticon glances to him. He smirks a little at the thought of the Decepticon asking permission to get Energon. He knows this is all an act the Decepticon is putting on. The mechs going to be compliant until they trust him then he’s going to strike. “Go ahead.”

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

He frowns as he walks to the dispenser. Is this some kind of trick? Will he get Energon and the Torturer take away the cubes? He glances back to see the mech still standing at the door. He types in his code and selects four seeker medical cubes. He drinks two of them right away before carrying the other two to where the Torturer stands. 

“Ah ain’t gonna steal your Energon cubes,” the Torturer says. Right, the mech’s trying to appear nice and friendly. “Just answer my question, were ya starved in the Decepticons or are ya sparked?”

He looks at the Torturer for a pulse. If he tells them he’s sparked would they cut out the little parasite? He’s surprised the mech hasn’t demanded anything yet, but this could be an interrogation strategy. One he knows the Torturer uses. The Torturer continues to wait for the answer. Eventually they will learn and right now they couldn’t cut out the parasite even if they wanted to, he’s underdeveloped for a tank. The soft sparked Autobots wouldn’t extinguish a spark even if it’s a dependent Decepticon spark. They’d try to raise it and processor wipe it into thinking it was an Autobot. He’ll have to answer questions eventually, but it all starts with the first one. Once you answer one, they have leverage. 

Would the Torturer actually torture him even though he’s nursemaid to the Prime? They could always get another mech to watch over the Prime. Maybe he should answer their questions, he wouldn’t be hurt. He’s already betrayed the Decepticons with no hope of returning. He’d have to win the Autobot’s favor but he can’t. He can’t hurt his Carrier. He can’t hurt Bumblebee’s bonded. He can’t hurt his Energon incubare. He has to trust that he’s more valuable as the Prime’s nursemaid than an information well. What harm could it be to tell them that he’s sparked and he was starved? Both are, were true. Perhaps it would give him leverage. They wouldn’t starve a sparklet. They couldn’t physically or mentally torture him if he’s sparked. Prime would never allow them to. 

“Both,” he eventually says. The Torturer stops in the middle of the hallway and looks at him.

“Ya were starved and yer sparked?” the mech looks at him, visor dimming. 

“Yes,” he says frowning at the mech he thought was supposed to be smart. How have the Autobots survived this long when they all seem so slow at learning things. 

“How far along are ya?” the Torturer asks as they reach the Torturer’s office. This is it, the lure of “friendly” conversation is going to end. He remains quiet. There’s no way of knowing how far along the parasite is, without having a scan and he has never had a scan nor does he ever want one. The Torturer glances back to him as the office door opens. 

When the room opens to him, he half expects to see chains and torture devices around the room. Instead, he just sees a desk, a data-pad shelf, two chairs in front of the desk and a couch along the wall. It seems innocent. 

“So, how far?” the Torturer asks when they step into the room. He can’t help but jump when the door closes and the lock echoes in the room. 

“I don’t know,” he frowns at the cubes in his servo. He’s stuck in the room with the most dangerous Autobot. His only hope now is to drag out the interrogation until the Medic is done with the Prime and Optimus saves him from being harmed. He can’t afford to have his repair system focusing on frame repairs along with wing repairs and sparkling development and Energon production. He shouldn’t have started producing. He shouldn’t have thrown Bumblebee. He shouldn’t . . . He frowns and flinches away when he feels servos on his and the cubes. The Torturer said he wasn’t going to take them away. He pulls away, glaring at the mech. Energon cubes close to his chestplates. Calming pulses fill his spark from the Prime with permission to use self-defense if he or the sparkling is in physical or emotional danger. He growls at the silver mech. 

“When were ya sparked? When’s the last time ya got down with a mech?” the Torture asks, backing away and sitting at the desk motioning him to the chairs. He frowns a little at the mech’s last question. It made him sound like a buy mech, pleasure drone. He has to answer the question of the mech will take away the cubes. 

“Six orns ago,” he frowns, on Cybertron a normal mech would carry a sparkling for fifteen orns. He’s supposed to be nearly halfway there. He only looks three orns sparked. A sparkling is supposed to gain consciousness at eight orns. 

“Yer not six orns in, are ya sure ya know the sire?” the Torturer asks, he frowns at the mech, growling. 

“I don’t go offering my valve and spark to every mech I see,” he growls and glares at the Torturer. The mech smiles a little and he wants to rip the mech’s faceplates apart. See if he smiles after that. “My bonded is the only one I have and will ever interface with.”

The calming pulses return and the permission for self-defense returns. The Torture is trying to rile him up. Trying to get him angry, to gain information or to make him attack and then claim self-defense himself. 

“Bee’s a little too young for ya,” the Torturer says. He snorts, mechs do a lot of things in the storage closets, apparently the Torturer frag-s a lot in them. 

“I know exactly how old Bumblebee is and I am not his bonded,” he smirks, now the mech is just grasping for treats. “Besides Bumblebee’s bonded is about the same age as his sire.”

“How do you know so much about—you’re his Carrier!” the Torturer gasps, he smirks and takes one of the cubes. “Why did you abandon your youngling?”

“I didn’t, I gave him a choice, continue to be a Decepticon or become an Autobot,” he finishes the cube. “He decided to be an Autobot.”

“How can you drink that so fast?” the Torturer asks watching him finish the cube. 

“It’s better than what I had been drinking and the parasite likes it,” he shrugs downing the other cube. Now the mech can’t take away the cubes. 

“Parasite?” the Torturer frowns, visor darkening a bit. He frowns at the slip, now there’s no doubt they’ll take away his sparkling. “You refer to the sparkling as a parasite?”

“It is when he’s so picky that he won’t use any amount of Energon to develop,” he crosses his arms. “Must be a sappy Autobot spark again.”

Jazz  
~~~~

The mech seemed frightened of him when they first entered the office then they got started talking. Apparently the mech is sensitive on the topic of interfacing. That’s useful information, while he wouldn’t start with the threat of interfacing, he’s not adverse to using it as an interrogation method, though he’d have to restrain the mech first. The mech’s adamant on being sparked but he refers to the sparkling as a parasite.   
The Decepticon is so sure that he’s six months into carrying but he doesn’t look more than two or three. He was starved, that would do untold damage to the sparkling, if not make the mech lose the sparkling. Bumblebee was brought in by Optimus as a youngling, they all assumed Bumblebee’s creators were deactivated in the war. Optimus and the Decepticon somehow are on friendly terms to have saved the Prime from Megatron and used his own frame to repair the Prime. Could the Decepticon have met with the Prime to give him Bumblebee when the scout chose to be an Autobot? 

Is it possible that the Decepticon is an undercover Autobot agent, one the Prime placed in long ago? That would explain the friendliness to the Prime, the apparent docile behavior in the Autobot base. 

But if the Decepticon is Bumblebee’s carrier, and the mech only interfaces with his bonded, the scout’s sire, that means Bumblebee’s sire is alive and well. Bumblebee isn’t the orphan they all thought he was. He doesn’t ever remember seeing Bumblebee close to another Decepticon, or Snowfire close to another Decepticon. Wait . . . he did see something on the battlefield when Bumblebee landed on him. Barricade, the shock trooper ran to Bumblebee’s side. The mech’s old enough to be the scout’s sire. They both have doorwings. And one time he thought he saw Snowfire close to Soundwave and Starscream when he infiltrated the Decepticon base one day. Could one of them be the Decepticon’s bonded, Bumblebee’s sire and the other two be the Decepticon’s creators? 

Seekers are known to be interface happy and he’s sure that Starscream’s the kind of mech who wouldn’t let any of his seekers frag any other mech. Obviously if the Decepticon was a full seeker and his bonded was Starscream, Bumblebee would be a seeker, so the Decepticon must be only half seeker. Would Starscream still consider him his? If the Decepticon was a seeker, he’d have spiraled within days of onlining without wings. But he doesn’t seem to be headed that way. 

Could the Decepticon be bonded to the Prime? That would explain the friendliness, the Prime adopting Bumblebee when he came to the Autobots and the need to save the Prime. Back on Cybertron, when he was friends with Orion, Orion had a mech he’d fallen in love with but never elaborated or let him meet the mech. he’ll have to ask Bumblebee who his Sire is. Of course the Prime made it against Autobot code to ask the brought in younglings their creators. Prime said it was to prevent the Autobots from being prejudice if they found out the creators were Decepticons. The Prime gained a lot of criticism and resistance from the officers, especially Ratchet who claimed he needed to know the creators to know their medical history. Prowl and he both told the Prime that they would have to know in case the mechs tried to turn their creations into spies. Optimus told them all that the younglings would tell him who their creators were and that he would determine if the others needed to know. 

Bumblebee is older than Optimus being Prime. He could be Orion’s sparkling with the mysterious mech. but how could Optimus allow his creation to be raised like a Decepticon? Could Bumblebee be a double agent? The youngling’s a poster child for the Autobots. But then the question is, how did Optimus fall in love with an assassin?

:Did you learn anything?: Prowl comms him as he watches the Decepticon look around the room. 

:Ratchet’s right, he was starved but the worst of it is he’s sparked,: he frowns when the Decepticon’s optics flicker a bit and the white mech frowns a bit. 

:Ratchet scanned him, there wasn’t any evidence,: Prowl’s voice is tight. Both of them know that the sedative commonly used for medics is damaging to forming sparklings if not deadly. There’s always a chance the Decepticon is faking the whole sparked thing to get free Energon and to stay out of the brig. 

:He says he’s six orns sparked, he doesn’t look it when he hasn’t drank so many cubes,: he frowns. 

:You think he’s faking it?: Prowl asks. 

:If he is he’s a very good actor and I want to try to flip him,: he frowns at the Decepticon, those red optics are offline. :He apparently is bonded. I’d really love to know who his bonded is though. He claims he’s Bumblebee’s carrier and that Bumblebee is bonded to a mech as old as Bee’s sire. I’m having a hard time believing Bee would do something like that. He’s never shown any amount of interest in interfacing or stuff. But get this, the sparklet he’s supposedly carrying right now is referred to as a parasite. I don’t think the mech is capable of caring for a sparkling. True, he obviously done something right with Bumblebee unless our little scout is a double agent.:

:I remember a sect in Kaon that referred to sparklings as parasites and then abandon them only to come back when the mech is no longer dependent on someone,: Prowl says, he frowns, that would be what the Decepticon did to Bumblebee. They can’t allow the Decepticon to traumatize another innocent spark.

:Are there any mechs from the sect on Earth?: he asks Prowl. He glances up to the Decepticon to see the mech slouched over in recharge. That is definitely a first for him, a Decepticon falling into recharge in his presence. It also means something is majorly wrong with the mech to fall into recharge in the same room as the most deadly Autobot. :I’m thinking the mech’s bonded might also be from the group.: :Ratchet, can a mech fall into recharge within minutes of sitting down?:

:Yes, depends on the mech though, did the Decepticon fall into recharge?: Ratchet asks, he sends affirmative. :Prowl said the same thing happened two days ago.:

:Yeah, I’m actually talking ta Prowler right now,: he says adding Ratchet and Prowl to a group comm. :Prowler an’ I were just talkin’ about the mech claiming ta be carryin’ a parasite an’ how he could be a member of a Kaonite sect. Did ya know he also claimed ta be Bee’s carrier. That proves the point he’s from the sect.:

:Optimus brought a youngling Bumblebee to base, not a hatchling, Jazz,: Ratchet says. :Bumblebee was well into his independent stage when he came to us. Did the Decepticon actually say he’s Bumblebee’s carrier or did you offer that?:

He frowns, how else would the Decepticon know so much about Bee? :Ah kinda offered it I guess. Still it ain’t healthy thinkin’ of a sparklin’ as a parasite.:

:Does he seem detrimental to the sparklet?: Ratchet asks. He frowns, the mech is getting more Energon than any normal mech for the sparklet. An advisory of sparkling abuse on a record is a serious offense. The sparkling would be taken away at separation or removed from the carrier’s frame when it was viable enough to go in a tank. It’s too soon for any advisory like that for the Decepticon, the are normally sent in the eleventh to twelfth orn stage.

:If he is actually carrying,: Prowl cuts in. :There are three mechs who are members. An Autobot designated Soundtrack, a Decepticon designated Hammerwave, and Shockwave who ran the Tarn branch. Soundtrack, though, is a youngling, younger than Bumblebee.:

:Soundtrack was also brought in by Optimus as a youngling,: Ratchet says, so if Bumblebee is supposedly the Decepticon’s creation, is Soundtrack one as well. 

:Optimus has brought in many sparklings and younglings, we have to consider how young Snowfire is as well,: Prowl says, he frowns and looks at the white mech. he assumed the mech was an adult but apparently Prowl sees him younger. Prowl would have to know how old a mech looks, he was an Enforcer and younglings aren’t supposed to have high grade. High grade, something he’s seen the Decepticon get from the dispenser. High grade is supposed to be lethal to sparklets. :He’s not that much older than Bumblebee, true he could have carried Bumblebee but carrying that young would be risky.:

:Unless he’s a host mech,: Ratchet says. :His preliminary scan showed nothing. No sparklet, no wing joints and no cassettes. Optimus claims he’s a seeker and we have seen him with the seekers. I don’t think he’s a full seeker or he would be closer to spiraling and he’s showing no signs of nearing a spiral. Is he still recharging?:

:Yes, he’s about ready ta fall out of the chair too,: he looks over to the mech. The Decepticon has fallen down with his upper frame over the arm of the chair and his helm near the front edge of the arm rest. These chairs weren’t made for recharging. 

:His Energon logs show he’s been drinking a great deal of Energon,: Ratchet says. :I’m scheduling him a check-up for him tomorrow, perhaps then we can finally find out what’s going on.:

:Schedule him to see First Aid,: Prowl says, he frowns. :I would bet he’s a youngling and starting him off with a timid medic instead of the Hatchet would get us more information.:

:The Decepticon really think I am the Unicron spawn?: Ratchet asks, everyone knows the story of Primus and Unicron’s one time fling that produced a sparkling. The mech was said to be the complete opposite to the Prime and harbor untold powers of destruction. He could take a life or he could give a life. 

:You have no idea, Ratchet,: Prowl says. Prowler should know, he was a Decepticon earlier in the war. :Mech used to tell stories of how they saw you devour a mechs spark because they disagreed with you on something trivial. Others would say you reformatted mechs into your medical tools. Of course, half the time mechs were drunk out of their processors when telling those stories. It took me a while to realize their stories were false and that’s with my battle computer telling me how illogical that would be and that the Prime would never allow you to do that.:

:I’d really like to know who his bonded is, the mech might open up more, leveraging Snowfire against him,: he says looking at the mech. The mech isn’t bad to look at but who’d want to stand the mech’s personality?

:I’m not finding any personal information on him,: Prowl says. :It’s like he doesn’t exist.:

:Is that on purpose or is the mech actually really boring?: he asks. He’s met a few mechs who are slag eating boring. Actually slag eating mechs would be more entertaining than them. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~~~

He onlines to a ping of an appointment with a medic. Frowning a bit as he finds his frame slouched over in the chair. A chair in the Torturer’s office. His claws flex, there are no restraints on him and he onlines his optics to see the silver and black mech working on a data-pad. 

Great, way to be vulnerable to the enemy. Fraggin’ parasite is putting more of a drain on his frame than he thought. Must be some fraggin’ special mech. None of their creations have been chosen by the Matrix and he wants to provide Optimus with an heir. Cybertron doesn’t need another mech like Sentinel and the best way to provide that is an heir raised by Optimus. Bumblebee was the only one close to by gaining a pulse from the Matrix. 

“Ratch is done with the Prime,” the Torturer says meeting his optics. He stands and walks to the door. Glancing back, he frowns when the Torturer doesn’t follow him. “Med-bay’s just down the hall, already told him ya were headin’ that way.”

He steps out into the hallway. The first time he doesn’t have an Autobot escort. He’s sure the Optics is watching him stand stupidly in the hallway. If they wanted to see if he wanted to escape, they’re going to be disappointed. One, he doesn’t know where the exit is except the vent where the symbionts entered. Two, he’d be hunted by both Decepticons and Autobots, found and deactivated. Three, he would starve without Energon and the parasite would devour his frame. Four, he wouldn’t be with Optimus nearly every single moment. 

He turns to the med-bay. Just like the battle, he will always choose Optimus. 

Stepping into the med-bay, Optimus still sits on the med-berth. Blue optics are dim but they brighten when he walks in and up to the Prime. Fierce need comes over the bond but the Prime’s field relays tiredness. 

“How many cubes of medical is Optimus drinking?” the Medic asks, he frowns at the Prime. One digit moves as the Prime grips the med-berth. 

“One a quartex,” he glances at the Medic who jots down something in a data-pad. “Does he need more?”

“No, he’s healing just fine,: the Medic says and he helps the Prime off the berth. He doesn’t miss the Medic watching as he “supports” the Prime’s weight nor missing the way Optimus leans on him but doesn’t put much weight on him like before. More glyphs are jotted down in the data-pad. Optimus falls onto the chair with a tired exvent, that needy feeling growing more and more. He frowns down at the mech, everything about the Prime’s frame reads tired but the spark says frag me into oblivion.

Optimus is most likely worn out and just needs recharge. 

“Is that all, Medic?” he asks. The Medic nods and he pushes the Prime out the door. The moment they’re in the hallway, the Prime’s field fills with charge. He stares down at the blue helm, optics going tight. “What all did the Medic do in your check up?”

That charge grows as he growls. If the Medic “played” with his Optimus, he’ll go back in there and tell the Medic Optimus belongs to him, violently. “Nothing like that.”

So Optimus was faking it? He snickers and leans to the mech’s audio. “Naughty Prime, you need a punishment.”

That charge spikes and the Prime lets out a soft moan. He wheels the Prime into the washracks. Aranea ejects and crawls to the darkest corner of the washracks. He parks the chair in the stall they were in the first quartex before checking the other stalls to see they’re all unoccupied. 

He enters the stall, motioning Aranea to do her trick. The spider swings down on the blackish silver thread before coating the floor with wire. The spider returns to the corner and the wire sparks with electricity. A mech stepping on the wire will immediately forget why they are coming to the washracks and leave to do something else. The wires can only hold the charge for a groon but that’s all the time he needs for the Prime’s punishment. 

Red optics land on the Prime and Optimus goes to grab his servo.

“Nah, nah, nah, you don’t get to touch, this is your punishment,” he smirks kissing the Prime. Optimus tries to grab his lipplates with his denta. Turning on the solvent, he steps out of reach. He faces away from the Prime, letting the solvent run down his back, Optimus’ engine revvs and he smirks to the wall. He runs his servos down his sides slowly showing off his thin waist, slowly swaying his hips. 

Optimus’ field flares with lust and arousal. He’s sure if the Prime was at full strength he’d be pinned to the wall. He slowly tilts his helm to his shoulder as his servos reach his hips. Holding his hips for a pulse, he slides his digits down his legs. Bending down, his aft is nearly within reach. He hears the Prime shift in the chair thanks to his audial horns. The Prime’s self control is supposedly legendary but he knows it is just the opposite in relation to anything he does. 

His leg armor unlocks and he slowly removes his pede armor, pulling his pede up to near his aft and tosses the armor to the wall. Sliding his digits up along his lower leg, he sways his aft before the Prime. Smirking at the small gasp. Once leg armor is removed, he trails his servos over his thighs, giving a soft moan as he imagines Optimus standing behind him. The Prime’s fans kick on low with a soft engine revv. Thigh armor is thrown and he trails his claws up his sides, digits sliding along his shoulder and down his arm to remove his servo armor. Long, thin claws become exposed at the removal, thin wrist and forearm exposed. Upper arm armor is removed and he shrugs his shoulder slightly as he sway a bit. 

Optimus’ engine purrs as his fans run higher. He reaches up to his helm armor, it unlocks and exposes sensitive wires for his audial horns and processor lines to the second and third processors. He moves to remove his left arm armor as he did the right before his back armor clasps click unlocked. 

Need pulses over the bond as the back armor falls into his servos. His wings would be fluttering in Vosian teasing, a language Optimus knows. His servos return to his hips, pelvic clasps unlock and he slowly removes his armor covering his aft. 

Optimus moans at the removal, venting hard when he bends over to remove his left leg armor. He hears Optimus reaching up to his aft before pulling back with a hiss. With his backside completely exposed, he stands up straight, servos running over his chestplates. He moves as if he’s grinding up against the Prime. 

A loud click and slink sound comes as he about to turn around. He moans as he hears the soft, normally unidentifiable hiss of the Prime’s spike pressurizing. 

When he does turn around, his servos slide over his chestplates, one travels to his panel. Optimus’ servo encircles the pulsing and leaking spike. The normally Allspark blue optics are dim and a deeper shade. He touches his pelvic armor, many mechs are turned on more to spikes and valves but Optimus is more turned on with his feeding pouches and tubes. 

His pelvic armor is removed and he strokes his black, white and blue spike to pressurize it before dipping his digits into his valve folds, moaning as he thrusts them in and out, helm falling back. 

Optimus stokes his spike in time with his digits. He raises his lubricant covered digits a pulse later. Stepping up to the Prime, he runs them along the Prime’s lipplates. The Prime’s vents stall and his helm follows his servo. Stepping back, the Prime’s glossa slowly runs along his lipplates, licking up the fluid. 

An engine revv comes as transfluid starts running out of the tip of the very swollen spike nearly forgotten about. His digits slide up to his abdominal armor, servos cupping it as if he’s sparkling heavy near the end of term. The engine revv Optimus gives breaks in the middle and Optimus cries out in overload. He snickers slightly as Optimus fights to stay online. Transfluid drips from his chest armor where it splattered. Gathering it on his digits, he licks it off before gathering more to coat a couple digits. When he has the Prime’s attention, he plunges them into his valve, moaning with every thrust. Optimus whimpers as charge builds up fast. 

He reaches for his abdominal armor, pulling it off. The sparkling bump is more defined but still hardly noticeable for a mech not accustomed to his frame. Claws slide over and up his chestplates, up along the seam which parts and he slowly pulls the plating apart and off his protoform. The Prime’s engine stalls at the sight of eight very full pouches. 

The Prime growl, squirming in his chair as he runs his claws along the tubes. A few Energon drips leak out as he teases the tubes. He smiles to the Prime, slowly stepping up to him. Swaying his hips as he does. His claws trail up the Prime’s arm and shoulder as he steps around the chair. Optimus’ helm follows him, leaning for a touch that won’t come yet. His claws slide along the Prime’s shoulders. He comes to stand behind the mech before he slides his servos down the Prime’s chestplates and abdomen. Feeding pouches pressing against the Prime’s shoulders, he moans into the Prime’s audio as his digits slide along the base of the red, blue and silver spike. Those claws slip into the Prime’s valve for a moment as he trails slow kisses along the Prime’s jaw before pecking a small quick kiss to the corner of the other’s lipplates. 

Just like that all touch leaves the Prime who cries out at the loss. He smirks as he steps around in front of the Prime. Those blue optics are molten like a brewing storm over the sea. He runs his servos down his chest as he rolls his hips as if riding the Prime’s spike. Optimus rolls his hips, stroking his fluid covered spike. 

Stepping closer, the Prime grips the arms of the chair and he slides his servos up the Prime’s thighs. Optimus tries hard not to squirm, shaky exvents leave the Prime as he nears the Prime’s spike. Optimus’ helm tips closer to his to try and steal a kiss. He spreads the Prime’s legs a bit, the valve leaking lubricant onto the chair. He leans down, glossa sliding over the valve folds before running up the base of the leaking spike. 

Optimus moans as he runs his glossa along the ridges. He nips the tip before running his glossa up the Prime’s abdomen. He grips the Prime’s thighs, out of the corner of his optics he sees the blue digits twitch. Need burns over the bond as he runs his glossa up the Prime’s chestplates. He bites the Prime’s neck cables as Optimus bares his neck. The deep moan vibrates the Prime’s frame when he kisses the Prime’s jaw and along it towards the Prime’s lipplates. 

Pressing his glossa along the Prime’s lipplates, they part and his glossa meets Optimus’. Blue optics shutter at the kiss, Optimus leans into his helm, glossa attacking his, denta scraping his lipplate. He pulls away making Optimus whine. Optics online with a snap, bright as a flare. 

He climbs up on the chair, straddling the Prime’s lap, blue servos grip the armrest of the chair and Optimus grits his denta. He trails his claws along the Prime’s shoulders idly causing the Prime’ to growl. He smirks before grinding his valve against the spike. Optimus cries out in surprise, charge sparks between them. The Prime whimpers when he shifts away and off the spike. He pinches an antenna before rubbing it. Optimus leans into the touch, shuttering those blue optics, he takes the distraction to seat himself on the Prime’s spike. He cups the Prime’s faceplates. 

“Very well behaved, Prime,” he smirks down at the mech. Optics brighten and focus on him, servos twitching a bit. Optimus realizes his spike is in his valve, engine revving loudly. “You may touch now.”

He smirks, optics dimming a bit. Blue servos immediately find his sides before one grabs his helm, crashing their lipplates together. Optimus jerks his hips up causing him to moan into the Prime’s intake. Servos slide down his frame wanting to touch every plate, every sensor. Strong servos grip his hips, pulling him up and back down on the pulsing spike. Optimus bites and kisses down his neck to the feeding pouch. The Prime nips at the feeding tube causing him to cry out in pleasure. 

Optimus wasn’t always this well behaved, well trained. It took vorns to teach the Prime to not touch unless allowed to. He holds the blue helm to his chestplates, as the mech feeds. Optimus’ servo rest on his abdomen, petting the protoform. 

Jazz  
~~~~

He steps up to the youngling’s quarters. Many of the younglings of the sect seemed to return and continue the culture. It’s crazy, they get abandoned and then return to abandon their own creations. Soundtrack must be one of those kinds of mechs, having returned home and about to start a new cycle before the war broke out in Kaon. 

He pings the door and a few seconds later the blue, white and red youngling opens the door. Blue optics brighten. 

“Can I help you, sir?” Soundtrack asks. 

“Ah had a question about ya Kaonite culture,” he says, Soundtrack frowns at him but steps aside to let him in. A quick glance around shows a normal mechs quarters. No evil, processor wiped or washed mech. 

“I think you’re mistaken, I upgraded in Protihex,” Soundtrack says pointing to the holocube with a picture of sparkling Soundtrack on the temple steps. 

“Is that how they spin it?” he frowns. “They ship ya off then bring ya back?”

“I separated in Iacon in my Sire’s apartment, my Carrier didn’t trust medics,” the youngling says. “We moved to Protihex and Sire got a job working at my grandcarrier’s temple. The only time I had ever been in Kaon was when my carrier and I went into Kaon to rescue sparklings from a cult.”

He stares at the youngling. The mech doesn’t seem like a cultist and that would explain the influx os sparklings and younglings. “Who are your creators?”

The youngling looks at him with a frown. “I don’t have to disclose that information. Article twenty seven, section fifteen, subclause four of the Autobot code.”

He frowns at the youngling, the mech should be related to Prowl with memorizing Autobot code. He doesn’t think Prowl has any sparklings. That question never came up. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~

He onlines to Aranea’s ping countdown, he sighs as Optimus holds him on his lap. The solvent still rains down on them and he presses soft kisses to the Prime’s neck cables. He grinds into the blue servos cupping his aft. Glancing down and resting his forehelm against the Prime’s neck, he rubs his abdomen. The protoform is hard over the forming sparkling. The Prime’s helm rests against his neck, he looks so peaceful in recharge. 

An incoming ping to his comm echoes as Optimus gets a ping. Optimus jumps online, grabbing his frame. He gasps and arches as the Prime gropes his aft. 

:Carrier, Sire,: Soundtrack’s voice echoes in his audial horns. He snickers at the Prime, calling Aranea back and his audial horns fold down. :Jazz just paid me a visit asking about the cult and who my creators were.:

:The Torturer offered the option of me being Bee’s carrier, I didn’t deny it,: he frowns at the Prime, sliding off the mech’s frame and shutting off the solvent. He puts on his armor before wheeling the Prime to their quarters. 

“What are your Energon levels?” Optimus asks him. :The clause is there for a reason. No one should be treated different because of their creators.:

“Sixty percent,” he says turning towards the rec room rather than the shortest way to the quarters. He hands the Prime four cubes of seeker medical grade and one medical grade. 

They reach the Prime’s quarters to see Soundtrack waiting outside. He types in his code and pushes the Prime in. Optimus hands him a cube which he downs before he even gets to the couch. Soundtrack sits beside him as he sips the second cube. 

“I don’t like Jazz digging around, he’s going to end up finding something,” Soundtrack frowns, doorwings trembling a little. 

“If he finds out he finds out,” he says starting the third cube. “The Medic could test Bee’s CNA to find out we are his creators and obviously we had a relationship for that long.”

“He could make it to sound like you raped sire,” Soundtrack’s doorwings rattle this time. He pulls the youngling closer, chestplates parting. Soundtrack glances over to Optimus as he climbs on his lap. “You’re sparked?”

He nods and Soundtrack uses Bumblebee’s claimed pouch. Doorwings slowly relax as he pets the youngling’s helm. 

“If Jazz finds out, there is nothing we can do, we just have to move forward,” Optimus says handing him the fourth cube while he drinks the medical grade. Soundtrack purrs as he rubs the youngling’s back. 

Soundtrack leaves after a klik and he gets up to wheel the Prime to the berthroom. Optimus is in recharge and he starts to pick up the Prime to transfer him. 

“I’m online,” Optimus mumbles, optics online. He leans in catching the Prime’s lipplates, one of the blue servos slide into his still parted chestplates to grope the feeding pouch. He moans as the Prime’s thumb rubs over the feeding tube. Locks hiss and he helps the Prime up on the berth. The red and blue armor staying on the chair and around it. His armor fall among the Prime’s as he crawls on the berth. Optimus cups his helm, spreading his legs and baring his valve. Lipplates brush against one another’s as he strokes his spike to pressurize it.

He moans as Optimus cups his feeding pouches in his servos, squeezing them slightly. Glossa sliding along his, he slips claws into the Prime’s wet valve. Spike tip slipping into the Prime, Optimus moans servos tightening on the feeding pouches. He holds the Prime’s hips as he thrusts into the warm valve. The Prime’s legs wrap around him. He doesn’t like spiking the Prime because he’s smaller and he doesn’t fill the Prime very well. Optimus, though loves being spiked. He frowns, glancing away a bit as he keeps thrusting, the Medic or the Armory would fill the Prime easily. His thrusting slows, those servos messaging his pouches stop and he feels Energon tears falling. Optimus tips up his chin, thumbs rubbing away the tears. 

“You know I love your spike,” Optimus says looking into his optics. “I don’t want anyone else’s entering me.”

Optimus wiggles his hips causing him to laugh a bit. The Prime takes his chin and pulls him into a kiss, the other servo gropes his aft as he begins thrusting into the Prime again. Optimus cries out in overload a pulse later, valve clenching hard on his spike causing his own overload. Transfluid filling the Prime but running back out since the Prime doesn’t have a gestation tank. 

“Snowfire,” Optimus cups his helm, lipplates brushing together, nasal ridges side by side, optics mere digits from his. “I love every bit of you no matter what, never doubt that.”


	7. The Apprentice

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

The alert for his appointment with the Medic makes him online and he frowns down at the deep blue gray protoform his helm is buried in. Optimus’ arms are wrapped around him, the blue helm rests against his. The Prime’s legs are still around his waist and his spike still buried in the Prime. He’s never liked medics, even in the Decepticons. If he had a medical issue, he went to Glit or dealt with it himself. 

Optimus onlines slowly and gives him a kiss, he can tell the Prime is still tired but Optimus said he would come with him to make sure the big, mean medic doesn’t dismantle him. He’d much rather see the Apprentice but the mech only sees younglings, well except Bumblebee. Bumblebee is one the active fighting roster. 

He is still technically a youngling if the Autobots cared to find out his age. He helps the Prime put on his armor after he puts on his own and wheels him to the rec room for Energon. The room is empty and he takes four cubes of seeker medical grade and Optimus gives him a high grade cube and gets a medical grade to share. 

They pick a booth, his pede slides up against the inside of the Prime’s leg as they sit across from one another. He’d much rather be sitting beside the Prime enjoying their Energon. Their frames pressed close, servos sliding over plating. His claws would slide down the Prime’s frame to trail around the Prime’s interface panel making the Prime squirm. He would pull the Prime into a kiss. 

He’s through with his cubes as Optimus gets halfway through his medical grade. Optimus slides it over to him, grabbing that pede rubbing along the inside of the Prime’s thigh. The Prime pulls his pede to press against his warm panel. Those blue digits run over his pede slowly as he finishes the cube. He stands and wheels the Prime to the med-bay. They get in the hallway when the base alarms go off making him jump. Optics bright, he doesn’t know what to do other than move the Prime towards the wall in case there’s a stampede. He looks to the Prime for orders. If he were in the Decepticon base, the comms would be lit up, here, he’s not on the Autobot comms. It’s oddly quiet with the alarms going off, lights flashing and Optimus just sitting in the chair listening to his Autobots. 

“Go to the med-bay,” Optimus says, voice guarded. Someone must have been injured . . . or deactivated. They reach the md-bay, shouting and yelling come from within the closed room. The noise just gets louder when the doors open. Three of the berths are occupied, two shout and yell that they have to rescue someone, their vocalizers garble their speech. The Medic glances up to them, servos already deep in the third mech’s frame. The two other medics, the Shocker and the Racer try calming the irritating mechs. 

“First Aid is in the first private room,” the Medic jerks his helm to the hall behind the berths. They get halfway there when a mech bursts in the med-bay. 

“Saprkraid?” the mech asks, he freezes, Energon running cold. Every mech is quiet in the med-bay. “Where’s Sparkraid?”

“The cons took him,” one of the mechs say. They must be Sparkraid’s scouting mates but who is the mech seemingly so worried about Sparkraid? 

“Which Decepticon took Sparkraid?” he asks, frowning and turning to the mechs, red optics turning molten. The Medic glances over to him. If it were certain Decepticons then he will fight his way out of the Autobot base to rescue his creation. The worried mech glances at him with a frown. 

“Barricade and someone said they saw Soundwave,” the other mech says. 

“Oh,” he shrugs, not missing the mysterious green, white and black mech’s frown. He pushes the Prime into the room, the Apprentice stands by the mech-berth, the one where Optimus cleaned his wing cavity. The Apprentice turns around, visor brightening as he parks the Prime at the pede of the berth. 

“You didn’t have to bring the Prime here for your check-up,” the Apprentice says glancing to the Prime when he takes a seat on the berth. “He can sit outside while I look over your vitals, if you don’t want him to hear the results.”

“I don’t mind if he’s in here,” he shrugs, the medic Apprentice won’t try anything this way. The Apprentice frowns glancing to the Prime. “I’m surprised you’re not insisting he stays in here. Being alone with a dangerous Decepticon assassin, I’m surprised the Medic let you take over my check-up.”

“I may not see much combat, but I can defend myself,” the Apprentice frowns, he smirks at the amusement flowing over the bond. 

“Can you now?” he smirks, shifting on the berth. 

“Snowfire,” Optimus says warningly as he hops off the berth and grabs the Apprentice’s arms, claws swiftly unplugging the comm connector. “Don’t make him call in back up to detain you.”

“I just wanted to have a little fun with the Apprentice,” he smirks, the Apprentice’s field tightens, fear shimmers in it. 

“You disabled my comms,” the Apprentice glances to the Prime. He smirks trailing a claw along the mech’s jaw.

“Snowfire, let him get on with the check-up before Ratchet comes in to see what is taking so long.”

“Yes, master,” he smiles, reconnecting the comm and hopping up on the berth. The Apprentice glances over to the Prime who watches him. 

“Snowfire, you’re not a slave or pet here, the Prime is not your master,” the Apprentice frowns coming closer. Optimus laughs causing the Apprentice to jump and him to laugh. The Apprentice looks between them before looking at the Prime. He smirks at the Apprentice. The mech thinks he thinks he’s a slave or pet. 

First Aid  
~~~~~~~~

Ratchet pulled him aside earlier today to speak with him about a new patient. Ratchet told him about the Decepticon, that Prowl thought he was a youngling. He is supposed to gather information on the Decepticon. The intel that Jazz gathered was that the mech was sparked. That he may be detrimental to the sparkling and that he needs to determine the age of the sparkling and how sturdy the frame is.

He’s not afraid of Decepticons, he’s a little wary of the assassin though. He’s seen some of the mech’s aftermath. The mech is dangerous but without weapons, would the mech be as dangerous? But they’re in the Autobot base, he has Autobots all around him. 

He frowns at the Decepticon. He doesn’t know what he expected of the Decepticon. He doesn’t normally work with them. He works with younglings, they see him around their own age and are more open and comfortable around him. This mech seems more like a youngling than Decepticon. Sure the mech scared him, would he have been offlined if the Prime wasn’t in here?

The Prime never flinched or reacted like he was in danger. Ratchet thought the Prime might be controlled by the Decepticon but is it the other way around. The Decepticon calls the Prime master.

He didn’t expect the Decepticon to want the Prime in the room during the check-up. Only if a mech is a youngling do they have a guardian present with the medic. Of course he’s still a couple orns from being an adult so the younglings don’t need a guardian. Bumblebee signed a waiver for Ratchet to treat him but Ratchet comes to him for Bumblebee’s treatment. Is the Decepticon a youngling and designated the Prime as his guardian. 

“I need to take an Energon sample,” he reaches for the mech’s arm. The Decepticon pulls away, red optics glowering. Was the mech hurt by a medic?

“Snowfire, he will not harm you,” the Prime says, he watches the Decepticon’s attention focus on the Prime. 

“Yes, master,” the Decepticon says holding out his arm. He frowns at the mech before glancing at the Prime. Nearly flinching at the heated glare the Prime gives the Decepticon, he can’t believe that both are still online with this much animosity. He glances back in time to see a brief smirk on the Decepticon’s faceplates. Maybe it’s not animosity, could it be playfulness? Ratchet said Optimus uses the friendly glyph tone for the Decepticon. 

He takes the Energon sample, frowning when the purple Energon fills the tube. Dark Energon courses through this mech’s lines yet he’s not a Terrorcon. Did the Decepticons find out how to refine Dark Energon? The Decepticon glances over to the Prime, a frown forming on the mech’s faceplates. He glances to the Prime to see the mech recharging. 

He should bring this up at the meeting with Ratchet. If the Prime can’t say online during a check-up how is he supposed to get through meetings?

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~~~

So much for the guard Prime. he frowns as the Apprentice starts messing with the medical scanners. The Apprentice turns back around with a scanner, one used to see development of sparklings. He frowns, of course the Torturer told everyone. 

“Will you lie down?” the Apprentice asks as he gets the gel to see through armor.

“Why?” he frowns, glancing to the Prime. He never wanted to see their sparklings before they separated. 

“You told Jazz that you were sparked,” the Apprentice frowns. “I just need to confirm.”

“I am sparked bit I don’t want to see him,” he frowns. “Does the Torturer tell everyone everything he finds out? I guess you also heard from him that I am also Bumblebee’s carrier?”

“I just need to confirm you’re sparked,” the Apprentice says. 

“What happens if is said I lied?” he frowns scooting away as the Apprentice moves closer.

“Has a medic harmed you before?” the Apprentice asks stepping closer and he climbs all the way on the berth to press against the wall. “If there’s something wrong with the sparkling it would be much better to find out ear—“

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” he growls, claws flexing on one servo while the other blocks his abdomen. He growls, distress seeping over the bond. Optimus’ optics surge online and the Prime nearly jumps up but ends up crashing to the floor. The Apprentice jumps and glances at the Prime on the floor. Optimus meets his optics and glances to the Apprentice who kneels beside him. 

The Apprentice struggles to help Optimus in the chair, he slowly slinks off the berth and helps the Prime up before moving away from the Apprentice. He stands against the wall. 

“What happened?” Optimus asks looking back to him.

“I just needed to scan his abdomen to confirm he’s sparked,” the Apprentice frowns. “You’re not surprised by the news?”

“No, I’ve known since his fourth day here,” Optimus says frowning at the Apprentice. “Snowfire has never had his sparklings scanned.”

“You know a lot about him, don’t you?” the Apprentice says glancing to him. 

First Aid  
~~~~~~~

He watches the Decepticon glare at the Prime. There is more between these mechs. The Prime is old enough to be the Decepticon’s creator, or even grand creator. A creator can hardly force their creation to pick a side of the war. What if the Prime didn’t even know about their rel—

“Snowfire isn’t any kind of descendant of mine,” the Prime frowns, he frowns. Did he just blabber this aloud? Is the Prime a telepath? “Snowfire is.”

He frowns at the Decepticon glaring at him. If they weren’t related that way, that means . . . he looks to the Decepticon. Are you the Prime’s bonded?

The Decepticon glances to the Prime and he notices the Prime frown. The Prime’s attention focuses on him. 

“First Aid, no one knows and no one can ever know,” the Prime says looking at him sternly. 

“That . . . that actually makes everything clearer,” he says. It also puts the Prime in a bad situation. Any mech who’s found out to have a mate or bonded of the other faction would be labeled a traitor or spy. They would have to have an investigation, the mech would be pulled off their job, their rank and clearance level would be suspended. They would eventually have a trial to determine if they have or can still do their required job. The Prime, being the highest mech in the Autobots, could have jeopardized the entire army if intel leaked to the Decepticon. He doesn’t think the Decepticon has a very high rank in the Decepticons, which would help Prime’s case since the Decepticon wouldn’t have the requirement to tell anyone. If anything the Decepticon would be telling the Prime information about the Decepticon. “Some of the younglings have darker Energon and I always thought they had an infection or something. Even Bumblebee’s is darker than normal and when he arrived, before going to Ratchet’s care, he told me his sire was an Autobot and his Carrier was a Decepticon but never named anyone.”

“You tell anyone and your spark will go on a shelf,” the Decepticon growls causing him to jump. 

“If I am going to be your medic I need to know everything medically necessary about you,” he says glancing to the Prime. That’s why the Decepticon didn’t mind the Prime being in the room. The Decepticon crosses his arms and the Prime snorts. It’s always entertaining to watch bondmates. Mechs rarely bond because of the chance of bond shatter, where one deactivates and it shatters the other’s spark. Only really old bondeds have survived. If the Prime and the Decepticon bonded around Bumblebee’s creation, their bond is fairly new. Either of them would deactivate if the other deactivated. No wonder the Decepticon saved the Prime. 

“Fine,” the Decepticon stomps his pede and plops down on the med-berth. If he didn’t know any better he’d think the Decepticon was related to Starscream, unless all seekers acted like that. “What do you need? No scanning the sparkling, no baring my spark or interface equipment.”

His optics widen at the mech. The Prime chuckles and the Decepticon glares. 

“I don’t really need all that, at least not for a preliminary scan, unless you experience pain when interfacing or you feel something off when—“ he frowns, stopping when the Decepticon growls at him. He gets his data-pad to start a new file for Snowfire. One that only he sees like the other younglings. “We know you’re part seeker, Prime confirmed that. Ratchet thinks you’re a host if you really are Bumblebee’s carrier.”

The Decepticon doesn’t say anything and he’s about to ask if he’s a host. “I am part host.”

“Have you created any symbionts yet?” he asks, another pause and he glances up to see Snowfire glaring at the Prime who frowns. Many hosts don’t create symbionts until they’re a bit older, or they have lost some and the subject is touchy for them. “I just need to know yes or no and how many and how many are surviving.”

“Yes, thirty one, all,” Snowfire crosses his arms. He glances up surprised. It’s unusual for a host with that many to have all survive. 

“How many full creations do you have?” he glances up at the pause and sees a confused look on the Decepticon’s faceplates and the Prime shrugs. 

“Thirty seven,” Snowfire frowns. 

“You have thirty seven younglings and thirty one symbionts?” he asks, there isn’t any possible way for this mech to have that many younglings even if he was the Prime’s age. And the Prime doesn’t seem to be the kind of mech to keep a mech sparkling heavy. That would be abuse. That is probably what the confusion was. Hosts singly spark themselves with symbionts. If the Prime was the sire to all the symbionts, they are technically full creations but chose symbiotic frames. 

“Oh, no, I have six younglings,” the Decepticon says. 

“Do you mind if I note them down, just to know, this file is not going to be seen by anyone but me,” he says. Ratchet could order him to give it but he hasn’t done that as long as he has been here. “It would give me a better understanding of their medical background.”

“Bumblebee is our oldest, he’s thirty nine decavorns old,” the Decepticon says. “Soundtrack is thirty three decavorns, Rainflare is twenty six decavorns, Sparkraid is twenty decavorns old and Torment and Virtue are sixteen decavorn.”

“And they’re part seeker and host too?” he jots down the information, seeing that their ages are a little off in the records because they were brought in and thought to be orphans and they didn’t give their ages. He frowns a bit at Sparkraid’s name. Sparkraid was just captured but Snowfire isn’t in any distress by it. Surely a carrier would be worried about his creation.

“They could be if they wanted to ,” the Decepticon says.

“What do you mean if they wanted to be?” he asks. A mech can’t choose to be a certain frame type. 

“I have three processors, one host, one seeker, one normal,” the Decepticon says. “They have them as well just not activated yet.”

“Fascinating,” he says jotting it down. “Do you mind if I tell the others you’re part host?”

“He does not have wings, the symbionts are the only thing keeping him sane,” the Prime says. “If it gets out he is a host they will want to detain the symbionts. Hosts spiral worse than seekers.”

“I would say they are medically necessary,” he frowns, “but I’ll leave it out. And you are sparked? It’s not a false positive?”

“Hosts know exactly what is going on in their frames, the symbionts help with the information overflow, production has been halted for the past six orns because he’s picky,” the Decepticon says tapping his abdomen. “He hasn’t gained consciousness and I don’t know how far along he is and I don’t want to know.”

“Have there been any other error messages?” he asks, Snowfire shakes his helm. “Another point that was brought up is how do you hold the Prime’s weight? Normal mechs are warned against lifting a lot of weight when sparked.”

“Hosts are strong frames and seekers can have a boost of strength,” Snowfire says. “And it doesn’t hurt to be Stormbringer.”

“Stormbringer?” he frowns, there was an old story about a seeker who was powerful enough to rival Primus and Unicron designated Stormbringer. The stories of the Unicron spawn originated from these stories. Snowfire holds out his servo, electricity crackles in his palm. 

“I reverse our armor polarities so my armor does the most of the work,” Snowfire says holding out his servo to the Prime. the chair begins rolling back then rolls forward. “I don’t want anyone knowing my stormbringer abilities.”

“I would love to study them,” he says fascinated by the abilities. He’s always been fascinated by the seekers abilities. “Ratchet also commented that your repair system had been lagging without needed materials. It’s also brought up that you have been falling into recharge with . . . supposedly dangerous to you Autobots in the room.”

Snowfire frowns when the Prime glares at him. 

“My host systems do repairs but the sparkling has been taking materials,” Snowfire frowns. “With enough additives it should get back to normal.”

“The next thing I can see is false, the Prime would never bond to a mech like that,” he says. 

“What? You don’t know what Optimus likes or dislikes.”

“The Kaonite cult?” he glances to the Prime. 

“That is why Jazz went to Track,” the Prime says. “No, we don’t belong to a cult. Snowfire and Soundtrack went to the cult to rescue sparklings. Snowfire found them and Soundtrack brought them to Autobot territory. What made Jazz look into the cult?”

“I may have called our sparkling a parasite in front of the Torturer,” Snowfire rolls his optics, the Prime chuckles.

“Snowfire loves carrying and caring for sparklings,” the Prime says, he sees the love in the Prime’s optics. He’s only ever heard of Snowfire from other mechs, he’s never seen the mech. Who he sees on the med-berth isn’t anything like what he’s heard.

“I also need to know who your creators are and any medical flags or importance they have,” he says.

“My sire is a seeker designated Firestreak,” the Decepticon says. “My carrier is Soundwave.”

He freezes at writing that down. Soundwave, the third-in-command of the Decepticons has a youngling who is bonded to the Prime. “Do you know your grandcreators?”

He glances up to see the Decepticon looking at the Prime.

“Shadowsoul is my Sire’s sire and Frostspark is my Sire’s carrier. They also have a mech designated Thunderstrike, my uncle.”

“And your Carrier’s creators?” he asks, the Decepticon frowns glaring at the Prime. The Prime shakes his helm and Snowfire huffs. 

“Primus is the sire, Unicron is the carrier,” the Decepticon says. He drops the data-pad to stare at the white mech. 

“Soundwave is the Unicron spawn the Decepticons think is Ratchet?” he manages to stay.

“No, well, technically yeah but Carrier doesn’t have the famed abilities,” the Decepticon says, frame sparkling with electricity. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~

He wheels the Prime out of the med-bay, the Medic continues working on the mech. The other two are gone. Once out in the hallway, he heads to the rec room. They get halfway there when someone grabs him from behind. He spins the mech and pins the green, white and black youngling to the wall. The Autobot looks shocked and Optimus glances back. 

“Surefire, why . . . you know not to sneak up on a Decepticon,” Optimus frowns at the Autobot. He drops the mech and walks over to the Prime. “Join us in the rec room for Energon.”

He motions for the mech to walk in front. They enter the rec room, a few Autobots sit around the room. He wheels the Prime to the dispenser and loads him up with cubes. They claim a booth away from the others. Surefire sips his cubes. He drinks two cubes before anyone else gets a fourth of the way. 

“What did you need so badly?” he asks looking at the mech. 

“In the med-bay, when you found out who took Sparkraid, why were you so concerned who took him?” Surefire asks. 

“Who are you to Sparkraid?” he frowns, he remembers the designation being brought up by his creation once.

“Surefire and Sparkraid are courting,” Optimus says finishing his cube. 

“Are they now,” he smirks looking at the mech. “Shall I interrogate him as I did Bumblebee’s intended?”

“You don’t have your wings to dangle him in the upper atmosphere,” Optimus chuckles. Surefire looks horrified at them, optics wide and he leans out of the booth slightly. 

“Are you planning on bonding to Sparkraid?” he turns his attention to the mech. 

“Yes,” Surefire says, “but why do you care?”

“I’m Raid’s carrier, he’s the sire, Soundwave’s my carrier and Cade’s Bee’s bonded,” he says taking the mech’s servo, claws touching a main Energon line. “Tell anyone of this and Raid will be planning a spontaneous funeral instead of a bonding.”

“You can’t—“

“Do you want Raid to be kicked from the Autobots, labeled a traitor just because you couldn’t shut your vocalizer about who created him.”

He smiles a little, it’s a sarcastic smile. It’s probably terrifying coming from a lethal Decepticon who still holds an Autobot’s life in their claws. Surefire glances to Optimus before looking back to him. 

“I won’t tell,” Surefire says taking his servo back and rubbing his wrist. 

“Good, because then I would have had made you disappear,” he smiles downing another cube. 

“Do Soundwave and Barricade know who Sparkraid is?” Surefire asks glancing between the Prime and him. 

“Carrier does, Barricade was caught up when he bonded to Bumblebee,” he says, “as you will be when you and Raid bond.”

“There’s more?” Surefire frowns. “Next you’ll be saying your grandcarrier is Unicron.”

Optimus snorts, he glares at the Prime and Surefire’s optics offline for a nanoklik. 

“Wait, you’re related to Unicron, Sparkraid is related to Unicron?” Surefire shakes his helm. “Sparkraid is one of the sweetest mech’s I’ve ever met. There’s no way he’s related to Unicron.”

“Snowfire raised Raid until he was a youngling to choose if he wanted to be an Autobot or Decepticon,” Optimus says. “I only saw him when Snowfire and I met up or when Snowfire and Soundwave were busy and Raid’s Energon incubare was busy. Raid’s the mech he is today because of Snowfire.”

“But you’re a Decepticon,” Surefire frowns at him. He gets the thought thread of Decepticons being evil and unable to raise and care for sparklings. That’s probably how all Autobots feel. He frowns and glances at his claws on the table. Would they try and take the sparkling away? Would they even let him see his sparkling?

He feels Energon tears well up and runs out of the rec room. Optimus pings his comm but he ignores it. He runs into the washracks and into the stall he and Optimus go into and types in the Prime’s code. The solvent comes on and he cries, holding his abdomen. How could they take his sparkling away from him? Sparklings are supposed to stay with their carrier unless this mech’s abusive. He’s not abusive but he’s a Decepticon, a mech who is supposed to be evil. 

A message pops up on his HUD: I’m in my office if you need me.

He sobs harder. He prevented the Prime from being there during their sparkling’s upgrades. He kept their sparklings from being with their sire. He did what he fears the Autobots will do. 

First Aid  
~~~~~~~

He gathers his notes for the meeting and heads to the conference room. Stepping into the room, Jazz, Prowl, Ratchet, Ironhide and Red Alert sit around the table already. Ratchet frowns down at the data-pad he is working on. It’s most likely the scout’s file. Mercury came back with extensive damage from Barricade’s grappling hook. 

It’s a very real possibility the mech will deactivate. 

He takes his seat at the head of the table. Every mech looks at him. He doesn’t like being the sole focus when he’s used to being overlooked. They each have a data-pad with Snowfire’s basic medical results. The Dark Energon, the part seeker, being sparked, the progressing self-repair.

“So the Decepticon is a Terrorcon,” Ironhide frowns, obviously coming to the conclusion purple Energon means Terrorcon. The others whisper and he can see the others going after the youngling with pitchforks. Thank you Bluestreak for making him watch that human movie. 

“He’s not a Terrorcon, his Energon is actually quite remarkable,” he says. “His Energon never changed into Dark Energon, it always was. He separated with purple Energon. And it’s not as dark as normal Dark Energon.”  
“That is why Optimus’ Energon was darker than normal,” Ratchet says frowning and jotting down notes in his data-pad. “The Energon in the Decepticon’s wing diluted into the Prime’s Energon.”

“He infected the Prime!” Ironhide shouts, jumping out of his chair. Ratchet frowns at the mech. 

“No, Optimus’ Energon returned to its normal color yesterday,” Ratchet says pulling Ironhide down to sit in the chair. “It wasn’t enough to seriously harm the Prime. He probably never even noticed it. The worst it would have done would cause hallucinations or what humans call nightmares. I’m surprised it cleared out as fast as it did. Mechs who turn their Energon into Dark Energon end up corroding their Energon but if the Decepticon was created with Dark Energon I don’t see how that’s any different to ours.”

“It’s pure Dark Energon not the containment kind in Terrorcons,” he says. 

“Is the mech really sparked or is it a scam?” Jazz asks gaining a glare and frown from Prowl. 

“He refused to allow me to scan his frame but the Energon test shows an increase in Snowfire’s trithyllium construction—“

“A material only hosts can create,” Ratchet frowns, dread fills his spark. He didn’t know it was only hosts when he learned of markers, he was told to look for Trithyllium or Cybernite levels. 

“Symbionts are running around spying on us!” Red Alert starts glitching. “Who knows what intel he’s gathering as we meet. We need to detain them.”

“He’s a seeker without wings,” he says trying to get ahold of the situation. “Hosts spiral harder than seekers. If we take his symbionts then he’ll be a rampaging mech you all believe him to be.”

“Did he tell you hosts spiral,” Red Alert looks skeptical at him and he frowns at the mech.

“No, the Prime did,” he continues to frown. 

“The Matrix must have told him,” Prowl speaks up. “As long as the symbionts don’t cause harm, I don’t see why we would need to detain them. Has anyone even seen them out? Even before now, do we know what they look like? The Decepticon may fear we will take them if we learn of them.”

“We hardly can pick-up Blaster’s symbionts,” Red Alert says glancing around the room. “They could be in here listening to us.”

“Red, you’re more paranoid about the symbionts than the Decepticon being in Optimus’ quarters,” Ironhide says. “The Decepticon could be doing Primus knows what to th—“

“So he’s sparked,” Jazz interrupts looking at him. He nods. “He refers to the sparkling as a parasite. How could anyone in their right mind call a sparklin’ a parasite.”

“There was a cult in Kaon who labeled sparklings as parasites,” Prowl says. He frowns starting to say something but Prowl continues. “They separate and the creators abandon the sparkling only to have him return when they’re independent.”

“Snowfire says he was in the cult to rescue sparklings,” he says trying to help Snowfire’s case.

“Soundtrack says he and his carrier rescued sparklings,” Jazz says. 

“Did you find out any creations he has?” Red Alert asks. 

“I cannot tell you who he said, it’s medic patient confidential and it impedes on Article twenty seven, section fifteen, sub clause four,” he crosses his arms. “They are all younglings and they are under my care. I cannot over step their trust in me or betray their confidence in me.”

After a few other questions, some he answers, some he doesn’t, the others leave and he catches up to Ratchet on the way to the med-bay.

“I have something to tell you about the Prime,” he says and Ratchet leads him into the CMO office. “When Snowfire was at his check-up, Optimus was in the room with us and ended up falling into recharge.”

“He is still recovering from injuries that should have deactivated him,” Ratchet says handing him a data-pad. The Prime’s file. He glances over the file, the list of injuries are extensive. The major one is the Prime’s main Energon line. The one from his fuel tank to his spark and processor was severed by Megatron’s fusion cannon. The Prime should have deactivated. Other injuries include partial severed spinal strut, fusion cannon shot to the abdomen, fusion cannon graze to the shoulder, dislocated arm, and severed hip joint. “The Energon line that was placed in him was Snowfire’s the mech used his own line to save the Prime. You don’t do that for the enemy. You do that for family. Optimus isn’t related to Snowfire by CNA, I’ve tested it. That only leaves mates. A creation’s Energon type resembles their Carriers. Bumblebee’s is darker than any of the Autobot adults. Snowfire happens to be Dark Energon and Optimus just happens to care about Bumblebee a little too much. He’s denied every other youngling from active fighting roster but signed off on Bumblebee—“

“Bluestre—“

“Prowl signed off on his,” Ratchet waves him off. “Anyway, I took a CNA samples from Bumblebee and matched it to Optimus’. Optimus is his sire. Snowfire’s CNA matched as carrier. You know his creations—“

“Article twenty seve—“

“Oh spare me, Aid,” Ratchet rolls his optics. If the CMO found out . . . an officer found out . . . he did find out. But Ratchet could be faking finding out and he really doesn’t know and is baiting him. “Don’t make me test every youngling’s CNA.”

“The younglings are my patients, as their medic I will not disclose that information without their consent,” he says clutching his data-pad tighter. Each medic has a master file data-pad, his currently holds Snowfire’s secrets. The CMO glowers at him. He’s really standing up to his superior officer? While Prime is on medical leave, Ultra Magnus, Prowl and Jazz cover leadership duties. He couldn’t go to either of them if Ratchet decided to terminate his license. Ratchet looks at him, no, glares at him. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

He turns and runs out of the med-bay.

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~

The solvent has long since shut off on its own when he onlines. He’s only been out for a groon. The solvent must be motioned wired. Standing, he leaves the washracks and heads to the Prime’s office. The door is partially opened and he sees the Prime working. He wraps his arms around himself as he walks in, nudging the door closed.

Optimus glances up and he glances away. He’s trembling by the time he reaches the Prime’s side. Optimus opens his arms and he climbs on the mech’s lap. Helm resting on the mech’s shoulder as Optimus rubs his arm. Optimus tips his helm up, kissing him softly. 

“Want to tell me what’s troubling you?” Optimus cups his helm, thumb rubbing this cheekplate. 

“I don’t want to lose our sparkling,” he sniffles, bringing the Prime’s servo to his abdomen. 

“You said hosts can’t lose a sparkling,” Optimus frowns at him, rubbing his abdominal armor. “We have whatever additives you need and I will do anything to help.”

“It’s not that, it’s . . . when he comes . . . I don’t . . . I don’t want him taken away from me,” he says, tears falling. Optimus cups his helm wiping them away.

“No one will do that, I will be right by your side like all the others,” Optimus smiles at him. “You can have him separate right in our quarters or here in my office. Just you and me and the sparkling.”

“Your Medic—“

“No one will touch our sparkling without your consent,” Optimus presses a kiss to his forehelm. “Surefire says he’s sorry for whatever he said to make you upset. I think I know what triggered this. You’re a Decepticon assassin. Decepticons are ruthless, vile, unforgiving, evil creatures who could never possibly care for another fragile, dependent, whining parasite. Snowfire, don’t believe that. The best thing for our sparkling is to have us. It doesn’t matter what we are, it matters that we are there and we care. I was raised by Iacon priests, I never knew my creators, they never cared to find me or keep me. For the longest time I though no one wanted me until the High Priest of Protihex came with his little sparkling and I was tasked to look after him.

“You depended on me and I knew from that moment you needed me and I needed you. The saddest orn of my life was when you had to leave with your carrier to return to Protihex. I started working at the Archives and the Docks to make enough credits to support you when I could court you. It doesn’t matter who my creators are, all that matters is that our creations know they are loved. The moment the others see you with our little one, they’ll realize you are the perfect carrier.”

He snuggles up to the Prime. The other’s engine lulling him into recharge. “Just promise me, I’ll be by your side when you confront your creators.”

“I promise, my spark,” Optimus presses a kiss to the top of his helm. 

First Aid  
~~~~~~~

“I thought I could trust you, Apprentice!” Snowfire yells at him. He shrinks in on himself at the sight of the angry Decepticon. Energon coats the mech’s frame. “Look what you did. This happened because you couldn’t keep your vocalizer shut. Are you happy now? They didn’t want me influencing it anymore, take it.”

A bundle of Energon and wires and random pieces drop in his servos. He looks down at the deformed sparkling. He glances up to see the cut in the Decepticon’s armor across his abdomen. He can’t believe Ratchet would cut out a sparkling, especially one who hasn’t formed all the way. 

“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” the Decepticon says before collapsing in the pool of Energon. 

“You know why I had to do it, Aid,” Ratchet’s voice chills him to the spark. White servos coming to his shoulder. “I couldn’t let the mech infest our base with one more spy. As we speak the others are eradicating the pests.”

He steps outside the med-bay, Rainflare, Soundtrack, Torment, Virtue, Sparkraid, and Bumblebee are all lined up, Energon soaked frames, sparks ripped out. Farther down the hallway are other younglings. 

“Can’t be too careful, ya dig,” Jazz says, busy hacking away at Perihelion’s frame. He turns and runs, only to bump into Prowl. The tactician smirks at him. 

“We can’t be too careful, every youngling could be a spy,” Prowl says raising his acid rifle. He screams as the acid pellet hits him. 

Throbbing pain in his helm makes him online his optics. He sees Energon drops on the floor. He feels a mech beside him. 

“Hey, are you alright?” the mech is saying. All he can do is stare. Hacksaw’s frown jerks him out of his confusion. “You screamed, next thing I know is you’re face planting on the floor and throwing your data-pad at me. Do you want to talk about it?”

He frowns at the youngling who holds out his data-pad. It was all a recharge flux? “No, it’s just a recharge flux.”

Overview  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Optimus nods off as he tries to read over the data-pad supply list. Snowfire is recharging in his arms. The mech is so far out that even the base alarms didn’t make him online. The alarms sounded for the Decepticons being spotted. Being on medical leave, Optimus can’t go out to fight, neither can any of the injured or younglings. 

:Rainflare, Bumblebee, I need your assistance,: Optimus opens a comm to the younglings. They ping back that they are headed to the office. Optimus taps Snowfire’s chestplates. :Thanatos, I need you.:

Chestplates part and the black and purple symbiont disc ejects, the vulture perches on the Prime’s desk. 

“Rainflare and Bumblebee are on their way, I need you to disrupt the cameras as we go to our quarters,” Optimus says as the door opens and the younglings enter. Thanatos takes flight and perches on Bumblebee’s shoulder. Rainflare wheels the Prime out as Bumblebee walks ahead. The camera’s in the hallway have a purple light instead of their normal green as they pass by. They make it to their quarters without anyone seeing them. Optimus holds Snowfire as the younglings steady him in transferring him to the berth. 

“Do you need Energon?” Rainflare asks, Optimus glances down to Snowfire and nods. 

“We’ll be right back, sire,” Bumblebee chirps and the younglings take the chair with them. Optimus lays Snowfire on the berth before cuddling up to the Decepticon. The Prime’s in recharge before his helm hits the pillow. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~

He onlines to the view of the Prime’s chestplates in the dimmed lighting of their berthroom. The lighting comes from the stacks of Energon on the tables on either side of the berth. Seven seeker medical grade are stacked on his side and two medical grade are Optimus’ side. Sitting on the edge of the berth, he grabs two of the cubes. 

Optimus needs more of his Energon than what he gets from feedings. The Autobots need their Prime, they need their leader. Downing the two cubes, he stands and glances back to the Prime recharging peacefully. 

He ejects Thanatos to disrupt the cameras on the way to the med-bay. The black and purple vulture perches on his shoulder as he hacks the lock of the med-bay doors. The doors slide open and he’s greeted by the dark and quiet med-bay. He begins searching through the storage for his targets. 

Noise catches his attention but no one is around. He ejects Kimba and Reaper. The two panthers disappear in the darkness. He finds the IV bags easy enough and begins with another storage closet when the panthers return with the Apprentice. He frowns at the mech. 

“Can-can I help you find something?” the Apprentice asks glancing at the panthers circling him. 

“Kimba, Reaper, return,” he says and the panthers run over to him and dock. The Apprentice stares at him. He doesn’t want the Autobot to know. “I need a feeding pump.”

He frowns, it’s highly unlikely the Autobots have one. The only ones to use them are hosts, seekers and femmes. The Autobots only have one host and five femmes. The Apprentice steps up to a cabinet pedes away from where he was looking and takes out the pump. It’s smaller than he imagined and less scary. 

“Are you producing Energon already?” the Apprentice asks, frowning at him. “It’s too early for that to . . . unless you . . .”

“Bumblebee and Optimus need it,” he says taking the pump from the Apprentice’s servos. 

“You-you feed Optimus?” the Apprentice tilts his helm. He feels the unease in the mech’s field. 

“Host nanites fill that Energon, it helps them recover,” he says turning and walking to the door. He shouldn’t have told the Autobot that. “Report that to anyone and I will sever your frame where no one can piece you back together. Good bye Apprentice.”

He steps out the door and heads back to the quarters. Never before has he ever wanted to use a feeding pump. He’s heard seekers complaining about it. About how sore their pouches are afterward and how their sparklings never latched on properly after the use of one. Some even said they couldn’t produce Energon the next time. 

Glancing at the box, there aren’t even instructions. How is he even supposed to learn how to use it? He can’t comm a seeker and ask anyone. He could use the bond to ask carrier to find out but that’s worse than the medic knowing. Well, not really, the medic would tell the Medic and then he’d be forced to—

“Snowfire,” the Apprentice’s voice comes from behind him as he’s already halfway to the quarters. He glances back to see the mech running up to him. “Have you ever used one before?”

He watches the medic before shaking his helm. “I’ve never needed one before. Others have said—“

“That’s your problem,” the Apprentice says leading him to the med-bay, to the private room. “Mechs spread rumors and eventually they get so far out of hand. The pump doesn’t hurt, just like a sparkling feeding doesn’t hurt. It may seem uncomfortable the first time but after a couple uses you’ll hardly tell the difference. Have all your creations fed from you? No ne used formulated Energon?”

He shakes his helm. The Apprentice pulls out a pump similar to the one in the package he has and the mech’s chestplates part a little. He sees two rows of feeding pouches on the mech’s protoform. The Apprentice glances up. 

“Gesalts have feeding pouches too,” the Apprentice says. “Any mechs who are in a group, like seekers with Trine, hosts with Symbionts and combiners with Gesalt.”

“Why do you have a pump?” he frowns, mechs only produce Energon for sparklings. Femmes on the other servo can produce all the time. Has the Apprentice sparked before? The Apprentice frowns and looks down at the pump, the mech’s field darkens. 

“I was in love with a mech back on Cybertron when I was a student at the medical academy,” the Apprentice says sighing. “We were going to bond after I graduated. The war was just beginning and he had already chosen a side. I was wary of the faction but he promised to protect me. He had his own gesalt and my gesalt mates didn’t like us together. 

“I was sparked up right before graduation, the war worsened and a bombing took out my gesalt mates. His had been deactivated before we met as I found out during my grieving. The Battle of Kaon took him away from me and our sparkling. Our sparkling separated and I began working at Iacon Medical and couldn’t be with him. I had to use the pump for when I was away.”

“Who is your sparkling?” he frowns, he can see EM fields and many times creators and creations have similar ones. He’s never seen one matching the Apprentice but of course he hasn’t seen all the younglings on base. 

“I named him Ambience after his sire but he didn’t have a strong spark,” the Apprentice frowns. “A result of a sparkling outside of Gesalt. He faded a few decaorns after separating.”

This younglins has been through so much yet has remained so light sparked. “What was your mate’s designation?”

“Ambulon,” the Apprentice says looking down at the pump. Ambulon was a Decepticon medic when he was introduced in the Decepticons. The mech fell off the grid after Kaon. “I know he was a Decepticon. He’s probably why I don’t mind Decepticons. Anyway we should get on with the feeding pump before the others get back.”

The Apprentice shows him how to put it on, the pump doesn’t suction on like he feared it would have. He watches the mech to see any adverse reactions but none come. Sadness only fills the other’s field. After the Apprentice puts away the pump, he stands to head out. 

“Why do you fear the others learning you’re a host?” the Apprentice asks. He frowns at the mech. 

“At the beginning of the war, the Decepticons got their Energon from captured femmes. The femmes were milked, raped and strung up in public. If anyone had learned that host Energon had miraculous healing nanites every host would replace the femmes. The symbionts would be taken and the host’s systems would slowly disintegrate without uplinks and dock sequences. The hosts would spiral hard. They would emit a sonic scream destroying nearby audios. I don’t want to become the fuel source for greedy, privileged Autobots. My Energon is for my family.”

“No one would ever force you like that, or any mech like that,” the Apprentice says. “The Prime would never allow a mech or femme to be treated like that. How did the Prime react when he learned you could produce?”

“Orion was fascinated, he wanted to know everything about it, wanted to try it.”

“You knew the Pre-Prime?”

“Orion knew me since I had been a sparkling,” he says. “Optimus is many megavorn older than I am, at least one hundred forty five.”

“Oh, wow.”

“He’s older than my carrier and as old as my sire,” he smirks. “Sire didn’t like him when he met Orion. Said he was too old but then learned we bonded and I was sparked up. Carrier ended up telling sire how Orion used to sparkling sit me when my Energon incubare couldn’t and how Orion provided for me during our courtship.”

“Weren’t you afraid that he would try and control you or something?”

“No, I love him, he makes me feel safe and happy.”

“Why did you become a Decepticon then?”

“My creators were Decepticons and I liked deactivating things. The Prime couldn’t sanction a mech who’d rather watch a mech fade as they held their spark in their servos. He never asked about Decepticons, I never asked about Autobots. Now that I am in the base, Optimus probably won’t let me leave.”

“I’m sure he woul—“

“I know he would, but I will choose Optimus before anything else, always.”

First Aid  
~~~~~~~~

He watches the Decepticon leave the med-bay. The Autobot officers have nothing to fear. Snowfire isn’t the monster they all think, isn’t the feared Unicron spawn. 

“You did well, First Aid,” he jumps at Ratchet’s voice. Spinning around, he meets the ice blue optics of the CMO. “You stood your ground with the protection of your patients. I shouldn’t have asked about the younglings or pressured you into giving up information. There are mechs out there that would try and get a medic to divulge information about patients.” 

“It was a test?” he frowns at the medic.

“Yes and no,” a Decepticon is a threat, the younglings are not,” Ratchet says motioning for him to walk with him. 

“Snowfire isn’t here to harm the Autobots, true he doesn’t care about them but Prime does and he cares for the Prime more than anyone could ever think,” he frowns. This means he’s not in danger of not being a medic?

“Has the mech let you look at his back yet?” Ratchet asks, he frowns shaking his helm. He knew the youngling’s back was terrible when he came in and he’s supposed to have wings but the mech’s back looked fine. “When he came in I could barely plug in the IV. His frame kept shocking any mech who touched him. When he onlined, he gave no motion for me to fix it. If you didn’t clean the area and he can’t reach it and I didn’t do anything, who did?” 

“Prime must have,” he says, he didn’t know the Prime knew anything about medical stuff. But apparently a lot isn’t known about the Prime. “Ratchet, how old is the Prime?”

“As a mech or as the Prime?”

“As a mech,” he says knowing that Optimus hasn’t been Prime for very long.

“He never said anything, I would assume around ninety megavorn, no more than a hundred thirty megavorn.”

“What if I told you the Prime is one hundred fifty megavorn?” he asks, Ratchet looks at him, stopping in the hallway. 

“Who told you that?”

“Snowfire, he said the Prime was about one hundred forty five megavorns older than he and previously he said he was fifty six decavorn,” he says, frowning as he realizes where they’re standing in the base. Prowl’s office door is right in front of them. “Ratchet?”

The CMO takes his arm and the door opens. “The Decepticon is a threat, someone needs to know the scope of how dangerous this mech is. Snowfire is not an ally, he is a youngling but he cannot be trusted. You will be locked in this office until you tell Prowl everything you know about the assassin. As the CMO of the Autobots, I order you to tell Prowl everything you have found out about the assassin.”

“Ratchet!” he’s pushed into the office and stumbles in, regaining his balance when the locks sound. He looks up to see Prowl’s icy optics watching him. 

“Have a seat First Aid, this will take a while,” Prowl says. He clutches his data-pad to his chassis as he steps up to the chairs. Snowfire is going to kill him. 

Snowfire  
~~~~~~~~

He returns to the quarters to find Optimus still recharging. Hiding the pump in the drawer of the berthside table, he sits on the berth to finish his Energon. He drinks the medical cubes on Optimus’ side. If the Prime wanted Energon he could always feed from him. he drops his armor before climbing on the berth, Optimus turns to him and wraps his arms around him. 

He wants to trust the Apprentice. The mech seems nice but he’s not of any rank. Optimus pulls him closer and buries his helm in the back of his helm. Blue servos find their way to his abdomen. 

First Aid  
~~~~~~~

“First Aid, you’re just making this harder on yourself,” Prowl crosses his arms as he sits across from him. His spark pulses frantically as he clutches his data-pad. “Look, First Aid, I will not jump to conclusions about the Decepticon. Give me the information you have on the Decepticon and I will make sure the Decepticon is treated fairly.”


End file.
